Silent Understanding
by TaelynHawker
Summary: Harry's leaving for Hogwarts after Christmas, but with Sirius growing more remote by the day he doesn't know if he can. Not to mention the sick feeling in his own stomach when he thinks about leaving Sirius alone. HarrySirius SLASH. Story on hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters are my own. I make no money, only a small amount of joy off of any of this.

**Pairing:** Harry/Sirius

**Warnings:** 15 year old Harry, though not much happens just yet. SLASH, if you don't like it then please don't read it. This is my first Harry Potter story. I probably change a few details for the sake of story, but not many.

**Summary:** Harry is about to leave for Hogwarts after the Christmas Holiday, but with Sirius growing more remote by the day he doesn't know how he can. And that's saying nothing about the sick feeling in his own stomach when he thinks about leaving his godfather behind.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Sirius's mood seemed to worsen as the days went by, creeping ever closer to the day when the Holiday would be over and Harry would have to go back to school. Harry tried to talk to him, to get some time alone with him, but it seemed that every time he managed it Sirius found an excuse to leave him.

It hurt more than Harry wanted it to. Sirius was, in many ways, all he had. Without a doubt he was the only one with whom Harry didn't really have to explain himself. Who else could understand the bleak and black moods that Harry found himself falling into?

Sirius seemed to be the only one who actually understood that there hadn't been a year since he'd found out he who and what he really was that he hadn't had to face Voldemort in one form or another. And without Harry needing to explain it he seemed to know the toll it took, the cost of living through what a great many people had and would die of. Voldemort might not have been able to kill Harry just yet, but he was doing a fine job of killing other people.

In his dreams Harry still saw Cedric Diggory turn just a moment too late, see his awful fate in the dread green light and spin away only to hit the ground dead.

And when Harry didn't dream about Cedric it was Sirius that he dreamt of. Sometimes it was bad dreams, dreams where Sirius screamed in pain and Harry couldn't save him. Or dreams where Sirius was just gone and Harry couldn't find him, though he screamed for him and searched for him. And sometimes, sometimes the dreams where different and he woke sweating and sticky.

More than anything Harry wanted a chance to spend time with his godfather before he left.

And so Harry found himself, with only one night left to actually have a conversation with his godfather. They left for Hogwarts in the morning, and the thought of leaving Sirius made his stomach roll. Of course, thinking of Sirius at all lately had become an exercise in frustration. Harry didn't think he was supposed to feel quite this much or this strongly towards his godfather, but he was beginning to accept that nothing to do with himself, or Sirius for that matter, would ever be as it was supposed to be.

It was late; most of the house was quiet. But he knew Sirius had a penchant for staying up late, wandering about this house which was just like a prison cell. He crept carefully b y the silent portrait of Sirius's mother. Not for the first time did he wonder what it must be doing to Sirius to be here, in a place of childhood nightmares that he had managed to escape once a long time ago, only to be trapped in it again.

He moved the rest of the way down the stairs. Christmas lights still illuminated the stairway. The lights managed to give the dark old house the feel of a place well lived in. It was substantially better than it had been when Harry had last been there, before the term had started.

Carefully, not wanting anyone to know he was awake he made his way through the house. He stopped at a doorway, catching sight on his godfather as he sat on the rug before the still lit Christmas tree. One long leg was tucked under him, the other bent at the knee so that Sirius could rest his arm on it. There was a photograph in that hand that Sirius' head was bent towards. His hair fell in thick, dark waves down his back though his free hand moved to brush back a few pieces that had fallen into his face.

It had been one of the first things Harry had noticed when he'd gotten there in the summer. That even if being stuck in this house with nothing to do was making Sirius crazy inside, it was doing wonders for his outward appearance. Though he was still painfully thin, and still moved like a man too used to watching over his shoulder, he was obviously in better health. It might do him good, Harry had thought, to be stuck inside for a while. That had before he'd really seen Grimmauld place, or seen how much of a drain it was on Sirius. It some ways, being on the run must have been easier for him.

Harry watched him studying the picture. He looked, to Harry, painfully young and unimaginably sad. Harry's heart constricted painfully and then swelled with so many emotions that Harry thought it would break inside his chest.

For several long moments he stared. Then the photo dropped from Sirius' hands as he covered his face with them and let out a low, keening noise. The sound was inhuman, with more pain than Harry could bear. It sounded like the kind of noise he'd make himself if he could ever give voice to the pain he felt. It broke the trance Harry seemed to have fallen into. He moved quickly, still nearly silent, to sink to the ground before Sirius and throw his arms around him.

"Sirius" He breathed out, resting his face against Sirius's. Sirius tensed in his arms and his hands moved up to grab Harry's shoulder. It seemed that he would push Harry away, but Harry tightened his hold, practically crawling into Sirius's lap and the older man just let his hands rest.

"Its fine, Harry." He rasped out, his voice low and too controlled. Harry tried to speak but found his throat was tight and dry and his eyes were tear-filled. He pulled away, moving his hands to Sirius's shoulders so that his long hair twisted, silky and soft, between Harry's fingers. He stared at his godfather. Dark blue eyes still sparkling wetly, met his own.

After a moment of silence Sirius did push Harry back. When the younger man was off his lap he stood and took a step away.

Harry sat on the floor, watching his godfather.

"Its fine, Harry." Sirius repeated. His eyes darted to Harry's and then away again. "I just- Holidays, you know? Makes old men sentimental I suppose." He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, and Harry winced. "You weren't supposed to see all that." He finished with a short, barking laugh and a wry smile, but none of it reached his eyes.

Harry looked down at the floor beside him and caught sight of the picture Sirius had been holding.

He had been expecting a picture of his father, honestly, or even one of Remus. But the picture on the ground, which Harry lifted carefully and which Sirius made an abortive grab at before he let out a deep sigh and let his hand fall, was of Harry and Sirius. Harry could not have said who had taken it. There had been so many camera's flashing in the days before and on Christmas day that it could have been anyone. It was as if everyone had wanted to capture whatever happiness they could, as if it might be the last chance they had at it. Which was possible, Harry though bitterly, given the state of things.

He looked up at Sirius, who had a slightly stricken look on his handsome face, and then back at the picture.

In the photo Sirius sat, in the same position and the same room as had been just moments before. A small pile of presents sat by his side, his back was resting up against the old tattered couch, though it was covered in a bright Holiday afghan. Harry was leaning against his side, legs stretched out, his dark head bent over a Quidditch magazine. The photo Sirius lifted his head and looked down at Harry. One long-fingered, still too-thin hand reached out and brushed Harry's arm. And the photo Harry looked up at the touch with a smile so warm and full of- full of love that Harry almost didn't recognize himself.

Did he really look at Sirius like that? He'd thought that he was managing to be more discreet about the tumultuous emotions that ran riot through him at the mere thought of his godfather. He stared at the picture without really seeing. When his eyes refocused his stomach flipped and his heart seemed to jump into his throat to see a similar expression spread across photo Sirius's face.

Love wasn't something that Harry had ever really had in abundance. He had Ron and Hermione, but that was different. And it hadn't really been a word he would have put to how he felt for Sirius, except that looking down at the picture in his hand he couldn't think of another word for it. And it seemed to click something into place, so that the last of his unease about his feelings for Sirius were gone.

Harry risked a glance up at his godfather, but Sirius had a hand over his mouth as if to stop himself from speaking and he was watching the fairies as they climbed through the Christmas tree.

Harry looked back down at the photo. There were other people in it, but all that could be seen of them was their legs as they wandered past Harry and Sirius. He watched as the scene played out again. Finally, he stood, picture still in hand and looked at his godfather until the other man finally looked at him. When Sirius's eyes met his Harry's breath caught in his throat. There was something wild in them, something barely contained. It wasn't the same thing that had been there when he's first escaped Azkaban, but rather something that seemed to set Harry's skin to flame. He couldn't get his breath back.

"You should go back to sleep, Harry." Sirius said, desperation coloring his low voice. Harry took a step closer, shaking his head. He could not seem to find his voice. He reached for and grabbed one of Sirius's hands, heart fluttering at the sharp intake of breath from Sirius as he did. The touch sent shivers through Harry's body.

"Who took it?" He asked, finally forcing words out of his mouth. Sirius blinked in confusion for a moment and his fingers squeezed Harry's. His eyes looked to the picture than back to Harry. The wildness in his blue eyes did not abate.

"Remus." He answered. Harry nodded. "Said I should keep it." Harry lifted Sirius's hand, still in his, and moved his hand to wrap around Sirius's wrist so that he could place the picture in it. Hurt and shame flashed across Sirius's face, and Harry realized he had read more into the action than Harry had intended. He started to pull his hand from Harry's grip, but Harry kept his grip firm, though he was careful not to crush the picture. His free hand wrapped around Sirius's, his finger tips caressing the photo.

"This has been the best Christmas." He said through the lump in his throat. "Being with you. Being here." Sirius's hand trembled in his.

"Being here?" Sirius asked with a note of incredulousness in his voice.

"Being… with you, Sirius." He whispered. His breath hitched as tears rose in his eyes. "I've been- been trying to talk to you, you know? Because I know- I _know_ it must be hard to be here, of all places and to be- to be alone…" His voice trailed off.

'Harry-." Sirius began, bringing his free hand up to curve around Harry's shoulder. Harry met his eyes despite the tears that burned in his.

"I'd stay if they would let me. You know I would. You have to know that. Sometimes- I just think you're the only one who gets it. I don't- I don't have to be anything but myself when I'm with you. And you understand it- you've always understood. I hate- I _hate_ not being with you. I just wanted you to know. I want- I want-." He stopped to take a deep, tremulous breath and found that he was shaking all over. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that it hurt.

Sirius freed the hand that Harry was holding and leaned over to set the photo on the couch. Then he clasped both hands on Harry's shoulders. The tips of his fingers brushed the skin that was bared by the open buttons of his night shirt. He closed his eyes against the rolls of emotion in his stomach and ran the tip of his tongue across his suddenly dry lips. He felt hot all over.

"If I were free, Harry. If you were older. If things were- _different._ But they aren't-."

"You're miserable!" Harry cried, hands clutching and twisting at the fabric of Sirius's shirt. "I can tell. You don't want me to go, just like I don't want to go! When I left for school everything felt _wrong_! It only feels right with you!" He bit his tongue to stop himself and grimaced when he tasted blood. That wasn't what he'd meant to say. He'd only meant to tell Sirius that he understood how he felt but that Sirius had to be careful. He looked up at Sirius and couldn't keep the tears from falling.

………..

"Oh Harry." Sirius said softly, his voice rough.

He hesitated for a moment before he pulled the boy to him. The thin arms wrapped around Sirius's shoulders and held tight. His own arms encircled the slim waist; hands brushing the warm expanse of back that was exposed by Harry's raised arms. He felt a shudder run through him and an answering shiver from Harry.

Warm breath burst over the sensitive skin of Sirius's neck, delicate hands tangled in his loose hair.

He should stop this, he thought, as Harry pressed himself more fully against Sirius's tall form. He should have-should have stayed in his god damned room with that photograph. What the hell had Moony been thinking, showing him that? Coming upstairs to give it to Sirius just before he left, handing it to him with a soft smile, full of forgiveness and understanding that Sirius had never even asked for. How the hell could the man condone any of this? Sirius never should have started feeling for the boy the way he did in the first place. And he should be more than able to keep it from showing. What would James do, what would Lily say, if they knew the thoughts he had about their only son?

Only he had never meant for it to happen. But Harry had come to Grimmauld place that summer, and it had only been a couple months since Sirius had seen him last, and yet he had grown up. He was still small, and Sirius imagined he always would be. But the year before had changed him; it was in the set of his narrow shoulders, the haunted and sometimes angry look in his green eyes, in his voice, and his desperate need to fight.

And he understood things that most people, no matter how old, didn't understand. He'd come to Grimmauld place, back to Sirius, and the first time they'd been alone together all they had had to do was meet each other's eyes to understand. No questions, no prying. One clear look and all that might have needed saying about the past two years, hell the past fifteen years, was said.

And then he'd left. And as Harry had just said to him; nothing had felt right since. His dreams were filled with dark shapes and shadows that crept in and took Harry from him. Sometimes he woke and couldn't separate the dream from reality.

But there were other dreams too, dreams of heat and sweat and soft skin, full lips and hungry green eyes.

And when Harry had come back for Holiday it had seemed as if Sirius's dreams had truly crossed into his reality. Because sometimes Harry stared at him and there was a burning in his eyes. And always, always, in his face and the set of his jaw and the movement of his hands and his lips, there was a hunger for love and affection and touch.

How well did Sirius, who had been alone in Azkaban for so long, who even once free had had to hide himself in places no human would enter, how well did he understand that hunger?

So when he found himself seriously considering just reaching out and satisfying that hunger for both of them he had done the only thing he could do. He'd hid. Because Harry was only fifteen and despite what the Prophet might say, or Snape might insinuate, he was not a monster.

Then tonight, after everyone had gone to sleep, Remus had come into his room, looking weary and drawn and Sirius had ached for his friend. But Remus hadn't wanted to talk about himself, or the Order, or anything relating to the war. Instead he'd handed Sirius the photo with a soft smile and asked when it had happened. And Sirius had told him, sputtering and somewhat furious, that nothing had _happened._

Remus had sat beside him and put an arm around Sirius and told him that he knew that, he just wanted to know when Sirius had fallen for Harry. And Sirius's head had dropped and he'd explained it all. How nothing felt right since coming back to this house, how the scars of Azkaban still burned his soul, how hiding in caves had been somehow less dehumanizing than being stuck in this house. And then he'd told him, about how he had sat with Harry and never had to explain a word of it, but Harry had understood anyway.

Remus had asked him if he'd known Harry felt the same and Sirius had said he hadn't. And when Remus asked him what he was going to do about it Sirius had told him that he would do nothing. He meant it, he really _wasn't_ a monster. Remus hadn't said anything except to tell Sirius that he should do what he thought was best. Then he'd left, and Sirius had stared after him, somewhat numb, and wondering how Remus could condone anything happening between Harry and Sirius.

But it was hard to remember what was so monstrous about wanting to love or be loved when the very thing he wanted most was wrapped around him like a second skin, when his almost feminine hands where buried in Sirius's hair, and his breath was a comforting warmth against his neck.

A low groan escaped his lips before he could stop it and his hands on Harry's back, just under the hem of his night shirt tightened on him and pulled him closer.

He lowered his head and pressed one soft kiss to the bare skin of Harry's neck. Harry let out a soft gasp and moved his head just enough to allow Sirius to press another kiss, almost chaste, further up the golden expanse of skin. Sun kissed and warm, Harry's skin tasted like freedom as, on the fourth such kiss, just under Harry's jaw line Sirius darted out his tongue to taste him. Harry moaned in his ear at that and before he could stop himself Sirius licked again and then bit gently.

Harry's knees seemed to give out, but Sirius wrapped his arms tighter around him and kept him upright. He drew a deep breath, trying to recall sanity. But Harry's scent and taste filled his senses. He nuzzled just under Harry's ear and then continued trailing kisses along Harry's jaw.

The hands in his hair tightened. He kissed the corner of that full mouth and felt the lips fall open and inviting. He leaned his head back and met Harry's pleading gaze. And who was Sirius Black to deny such a request?

He moved his hands up to cup Harry's face, his thumbs running over his cheekbones. Harry's eyes fluttered close.

"Please." The word was a soft breath against Sirius's mouth, and he moaned before he brought his own lips down onto Harry's.

Harry's mouth was soft and pliant and at the slightest touch of Sirius's tongue his full lips parted and Sirius deepened the kiss.

Harry tasted sweet, and like the mint of the toothpaste he'd used, and like nothing Sirius had ever tasted. Almost instantly he was addicted, wanted more and took it. And Harry gave. His tongue ran along Sirius's, followed Sirius's lead. Sirius moaned again, deep in his chest, and heard an answering moan from Harry's lips.

His hands left Harry's face and found the bared flesh of his back, working their way under the hem of his night shirt. Harry gasped and trembled at the touch. He bucked his hips against Sirius so that Sirius felt how hard the younger man was. He wasn't sure if Harry whimpered or if the sound came from him.

But something in the desperate, needy sound made him stop. He pulled away from Harry, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth as he stared at his godson. Harry's lips were swollen and red and there was small mark where Sirius had nipped at his neck.

"Oh _Merlin_." Sirius moaned and took another, nearly impossible step back. "I shouldn't have, I'm so sorry."

Harry looked as if Sirius had struck him. His face drained of all color.

"Please don't say that." He whispered. "Don't you want… me?" He asked softly. There was nothing child-like about the tone. There was only defeat, the kind of defeat that no fifteen year old should know. It broke something in Sirius and he moved back to Harry and put his arms around him.

"Merlin, Harry, I _do_." He rasped out. "But I _can't_." Harry stiffened slightly in his arms. "You're too young. It's bad enough the Ministry is after me for crimes I _haven't _committed." He said softly.

"Too young." Harry repeated, then snorted bitterly. "What's too young, Sirius? _Too young._ How were you at fifteen, huh? Fighting off Voldemort, were you? Wizarding world thought you some kind of bloody hero, I suppose?" he snarled, and pulled himself free of Sirius's grip.

Sirius stared at him, obviously shocked. Then he scowled. He moved forward and grabbed Harry's shoulders.

"You know that's not what I mean! I'm not- _me_ of _all_ people- I'm not belittling what-." He paused. He growled softly and shook Harry lightly. "It's not- do you know what people would think of me if they found out? Or of you? They'd crucify us _both_!" He said, breathing harshly.

"I don't care!" Harry cried. "I need _something,_ Sirius! Something that's mine, something to-to- have to come back to. Something to _live_ for! I want _you_!" His voice was rising.

When he opened his mouth to continue Sirius leaned down and kissed him, hard. Harry whimpered against his mouth and opened himself to Sirius. He pressed his body against Sirius's, hands clawing at the older man's back. Sirius's hands clutched convulsively on Harry's shoulders.

He tore his mouth away. Harry made a soft, desperate sound. Sirius closed his eyes tight against it. When he opened them Harry was watching him with clouded eyes, tongue darting out to taste his own lips. Sirius groaned.

"Harry, do you want me back in Azkaban?" He asked. The outraged shock on Harry's face would have been comical at any other time. Harry jerked in his arms, trying to get away from him.

"How could you ask me that?" He snarled. "How- how? You _know _I don't!" Sirius held him tight, even while he still struggled. Finally he managed to pull Harry back to him, pressing his lips to his hair.

"That's where I'll go!" He told him fiercely. "If we do this and someone finds out. Dumbledore, I don't think even Dumbledore would- could- condone this."

"He wouldn't give you over the _Ministry_! They'd kill you." Harry told him in a tone that clearly stated Harry thought he was being stupid. Sirius couldn't help but agree.

"You're right Harry; he wouldn't give me up to Azkaban. But if you think he would stand by and- and allow me to- to _bugger my fifteen year old godson_- well you're _wrong_."

When Harry pulled away this time Sirius let him.

"We can't do this, Harry. I'm sorry." The look of hurt, of loss that flashed through Harry's face nearly broke his resolve. "Look you still _have me_. You have to know after this how I- how I feel." His hand reached out, wanting to pull Harry back to him, but he didn't. "You will _always_ have me, Harry. I _am_ yours." His shoulders slumped, he was supremely tired.

Harry looked away from him, down at the couch, at the picture that lay there.

"I have packing to do." The boy murmured finally. Then he was leaving the room and much as he might have wanted to, Sirius didn't stop him.

He went to the couch and stared down into photo Harry's face.

"I love you. That's why I _have_ to protect you, even if it's from myself." He whispered to the photo. He sat heavily on the couch, staring at the photo in the light of the Christmas tree.

……………..

Harry slept fitfully. When he did manage to sleep he was plagued by nightmares. He woke in a foul mood to see that Ron was awake and dressed already and looking at him worriedly. For a while Harry avoided his look and stared at the ceiling.

"You were up late, mate." Ron said finally.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep." Harry said quietly. Ron had clearly been expecting more. The frown on his face deepened.

"You- umm- you okay then?" Ron asked. Harry sighed heavily, throwing off the covers and standing.

"I'm fine. Just have to finish packing." And he went to it, trying to make it seem as if he were perfectly fine though he couldn't help the way he slammed his things into his suitcase.

There was a noise at the door, but he barely registered it as he threw two of his Quidditch books into the suitcase with a vengeance.

"Oi, Sirius-." Ron began, but Harry heard him stop. Harry looked at the door.

Sirius leaned on the door frame a scowl on his face as he watched Harry packing. When Harry looked at him the scowl seemed to soften slightly. But only slightly. They stared at each other, forgetting Ron's presence. Sirius looked, to Harry's eyes, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. A momentary pang of guilt rang through him.

Sirius seemed to remember Ron first. He looked towards him and nodded his head in a ridiculously delayed greeting.

"Mind giving me a moment or two with Harry?" he asked, voice sounding rough and tired. Harry winced. The last thing either one of them had needed was what had happened the night before. Another impossible situation for both of them to get caught up in.

Ron looked back and forth between the two of them. It made Harry glad Hermione wasn't there, because she might have just been clever enough to figure out what was going on even with the smallest of hints. Ron, however, merely shrugged and nodded his head.

"Sure thing. Mum's bound to be making breakfast by now." He answered and moved towards the door.

Sirius came into the room and waited until Ron had gone down the hallway before closing the door. He turned slowly to face Harry, running a hand through his dark hair in an effort to get it out of his face.

"Harry." He said. Harry turned away and continued with his packing. He gave a start when a hand gently covered his own and pulled it away from the shirt he'd been stuffing in the suitcase. Harry stared at the hand on his. Pale and long fingered and warm. He remembered the feel of those hands on his bare back the night before and shuddered.

"Harry." He said again, but his voice was softer now and so close to Harry's ear that Harry felt the warmth of his breath. Harry shivered again. "Look at me."

Harry raised his eyes to meet Sirius's. He was standing so close, Harry threw his arms around him, holding tight in case he tried to push him away. But Sirius wrapped his own arms around Harry, one around his waist, the other around his shoulder so that his hand could tangle into Harry's wild black hair.

……………..

"I should never have let you know." Sirius said quietly.

Harry buried his head in Sirius's neck and Sirius felt the wet, warmth of tears. 

"_Please_ don't say that." He said, the words muffled against Sirius's neck.

"One of us has too." He answered. "I'm supposed to be your godfather, Harry. I shouldn't- I shouldn't do this. And you're _so young_ Harry, and you think- you think there won't be anyone else who'll understand. But you have your whole-." He stopped, because the words were lies.

Harry might not have his whole life ahead of him. Sirius knew that, he knew it even if he didn't like it, even if no one else would accept it. It seemed to always come down to Harry in the fight against Voldemort, and as much as Sirius never wanted to think about it, Harry might not always come out on the winning side. It hurt to even think it. He tried to banish the thoughts from his mind, but without his consent the images of Harry being dragged away by the shadows of his nightmares came to him. He shuddered.

"Harry." He said fiercely, into the soft hair just below his chin. He pressed a kiss to Harry's head.

Harry pulled away slightly, but didn't leave the circle of Sirius's arms. He looked away. Sirius felt him breath deeply.

"Who _else_ will understand, Sirius? You see them, you know how they are. It _always_ comes down to me and Voldemort. You know that, I know you do. And I don't have to explain it to you. It isn't just Cedric's death, or my parents. I'm _differen_t, Sirius. He marked me, and it made me different, and nothing will change it. And I don't even really know what that means." Sirius ached for him. He pulled him close again, knowing there was nothing to say.

"You're still too young." He said finally, it was the only real argument he had. Because Harry was right. Who else would understand either of them? Reckless Sirius with his penchant for finding trouble, who had spent twelve years in Azkaban plotting his revenge, who might be a bit mad in the head and the Boy Who Lived, the boy who was marked by the Dark Lord with whom his mind was linked, the boy who everyone expected to turn up the hero of the piece no matter the cost to himself. But he wouldn't do this, couldn't do this while Harry was still underage. There had to be a line they wouldn't cross, a line _he_ wouldn't cross.

"I won't be for too much longer." Harry said defiantly, his arms coming back around Sirius and holding him hard. "I won't be. And then- and then, Sirius?" He lifted his head to look into Sirius's eyes. Sirius trembled at the look in his fierce green eyes. Warm hands had crept around his waist, were making their way under his shirt. He gasped at the sudden contact.

"Harry." He ground out warningly, but it was half hearted. "If we both make it, Harry, if we both make it that long." He said, lowering his head to bury it in the boy's neck. His hands ran up and down Harry's back. Sirius nuzzled through the thick black hair, his lips finding Harry's neck and pressing feather light kisses to it. "If you don't find someone else." He said quietly, thinking Harry wouldn't hear him. Because even if there wasn't anyone else now, who knew what would happen in two years time? Who could promise that long? No one, not even Sirius, no matter how much he wanted to.

"There'll only ever be you, Sirius." Harry said softly, voice breaking on a low sob. He clung to Sirius, fingers digging into the bare skin of Sirius's back.

Sirius held him just as tightly.

"You should finish packing now, Harry." He said, after a while, though his heart wasn't in it. Because whatever amount of joy and consolation he might take from this, it didn't change what might happen in the two years to come, it didn't change that Harry was leaving in a matter of hours.

"No." Harry said, no anger in his voice, just determination. "I leave soon, but if you really- if we really can't-." He took a deep breath and continued. "I just want to sit here with you for a while. Please, Sirius?" Sirius groaned softly and pressed a desperate kiss to Harry's lips.

He pulled away and let his forehead rest against Harry's.

"Okay." He said quietly, and began leading Harry towards the bed, where he sat down, legs outstretched and back propped up against the pillows. The bed smelled like Harry. He took a deep breath.

Harry climbed into the bed, settling himself between Sirius's legs, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Sirius couldn't help stop himself; he kissed the side of Harry's face softly. Harry grabbed his hands and pulled Sirius's arms around him.

They sat in silence for a while.

"This is a bad idea." Sirius said quietly. "If Ron comes back-." But Harry turned his head and kissed him gently, silencing him.

"You can hear him coming a mile away, and it takes him ages to finish eating. Never seen a bloke eat so much, except for Dudley, of course." He sighed. "Just for a little while longer Sirius, I just want this to bring back with me."

Sirius said nothing, and made no move to leave. He too wanted this moment to keep with him.

…………

Sirius pressed something firmly into his hand. Harry looked at him questioningly.

"You can use it, to talk to me when you need to. I know Umbridge is keeping a close eyes on the floos. You're dad and I used to use them in detention." Sirius explained with a small smile. Harry looked down at the wrapped package in his hand. He started to open it, but Sirius put a hand on his to stop him.

"Not here. Molly wouldn't approve of me giving it to you. But I don't think- I don't think either of us can stand to go without- without at least talking." Sirius's face darkened, his hand of Harry's tightened for a second.

Harry threw his arms around and hugged him hard, not caring if the others were watching. A bloke could hug his godfather, couldn't he?

"Be _careful_, Sirius. _Please_. I know you hate hearing it, but I can't- I can't-." _Lose you. _He couldn't finish the sentence. Sirius looked at him with obvious understanding.

"I'll be careful, Harry. You too. And much as I hate saying this, do the best you can with Snape. They're right, you know, about the Occlumency. You need it." His dark blue eyes bore into Harry's. Harry nodded.

"First time you get lonely. Hell, first time _I _get lonely, you use that." He motioned to the package in Harry's hand. Harry nodded, feeling tears rise in his eyes. "Off with you now. Raise a little hell for me." Sirius chuckled softly.

"_Sirius_." He said, holding Sirius's gaze. He saw the understanding there.

"Time you got going." Sirius said. Harry nodded. Sirius left the room, casting one more backwards glance at Harry before he disappeared up the stairs.

Harry sighed, squared his shoulders, and held the package a little bit closer.

Two years, he thought, it wasn't so much was it? Compared to how many years he'd been alone? No. It was a lot, but it wasn't all that bad. He could do two years.

He turned towards his friends and tried to smile. It was hard, but not as hard as he'd thought it would be.

…………..

Sirius sat in the dark room, smoothing down the feathers on Buckbeak's head. The hippogriff nudged him hard and he chuckled.

"You can't be hungry again, you git. You're going to get too big for this room." He said lightly.

There was a soft knock on the door and Remus poked his head in.

"Sirius?" He asked. Sirius motioned him to come in.

"He get back alright?" He asked. Remus nodded and bowed low to the Hippogriff, who bowed his head in return. Remus took a seat next to Sirius.

"Everything alright, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

"Alright as it can be." Sirius answered, feeling a pang of loneliness at the thought of Harry being so far away. He clutched the mirror at his side. Remus looked over in confusion, saw what he was holding, and sighed.

"You gave him James' mirror." He said, sounding slightly reproving. Sirius straightened his shoulders.

"Course I did. Got to be able to talk to him somehow, Remus." Remus sighed and Sirius scowled. "Look, he's a lot like me, you know? He can't be isolated the way Dumbledore's been isolating him this year. I don't care how much Dumbledore thinks it's for the best. He's bound to do something stupid if he's left to himself."

Remus muttered under his breath something that sounded a lot like 'certainly sounds like you'. But Sirius ignored it.

"Did you talk to him?" Remus asked finally, when the silence had stretched too long. Sirius nodded.

"We know where we stand." Was all he said. If Remus wanted more he was going to have to work for it.

"And where's that?" Remus asked. Sirius smiled bitterly.

"Two years and we figure we'll have another talk." He said. Remus smiled just a little.

"Two years isn't so long." He said softly.

"Nothing compared to twelve." Sirius agreed. Remus flinched a little, the way he always did when Sirius brought up Azkaban. He wanted to comfort him, but he was feeling too low himself. He stood and brushed his pants off with his hands. "Going to go see if Molly needs any help."

He heard Remus stand up behind him and follow him out of the room. They were halfway down the stairs when Remus grabbed his shoulder.

"Sirius." He said quietly.

"None of it's your fault, Moony." He said.

"I want to understand, Sirius."

"You do." Sirius said, but there was a hesitation and Remus heard it. Sirius turned around and saw the slightly stricken look on Remus's face. He put his hands on Remus's shoulders. "Remus-."

"Not like Harry does though, right?" Remus asked him, and there was no real bitterness in his voice, only resignation. Sirius opened his mouth to speak but Remus shook his head. "It's fine, Sirius. I know, I knew. That's why I gave you to photo; I wanted to make sure you saw it. You two, you're so much alike, I think. Everyone says he's just like James, but he's not. He's a lot like Lily, and a little bit like you. This you, anyway." He gave Sirius a rueful smile.

Sirius didn't know what to say. His hand tightened on the mirror in his hand again. He knew Harry wouldn't even be at Hogwarts yet. He'd still be on the train, in a compartment probably filled with people. He sighed.

"I'll see you later, Sirius." Remus said, patting his shoulder. Sirius watched as the other man made his way down the stairs, careful to tiptoe past the portrait of his mother.

After a moment Sirius continued down as well, sliding the mirror into his pocket. He'd give Harry until tonight, and then he'd use it.

He had the sad thought that this was going to be a long few months, but he tried to shrug it off.

"Molly?" He called, forgetting about his mother's portrait, which promptly started wailing. With a roll of his eyes he started to pull at the curtains.

He hated this place. He really, really hated this place.

………….

"What are you holding, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry started from his thoughts and looked at her in confusion. She motioned impatiently to the package he still held tight to his chest.

"Just a present from Sirius." He answered, thinking there was no point in lying about it. Hermione looked instantly suspicious.

"What is it?" she asked. Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look.

"It's nothing dangerous, Hermione. He wouldn't give me something that would put me in harm's way." He snapped. His free hand went up to brush against his neck, in the exact spot, he knew, where Sirius had left a mark. No, Sirius wouldn't do anything to hurt Harry, not on purpose.

"I just think that sometimes he doesn't really understand just how much danger you're in, all the time. I mean with You-Know-Who out there and Death Eaters, and goodness let's not forget Umbridge! You really shouldn't just blindly trust his judgment Harry!" She cried.

Harry scowled at her. What did she know about Sirius's judgment? He was protecting Harry; even now, much to both of their pain. He shook his head. He wished, not for the first time, that he was still with Sirius.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, looking worried now. "Are you okay, Harry?"

He forced a smile.

"Course I am. I just wish you'd lay off Sirius for a bit." He said quietly. He caught the look Ron threw Hermione but didn't know what it meant. He didn't care.

Two years wasn't so long, but sitting there, he thought it was long enough.

He held the package tighter to his chest. Maybe he could sneak out of the compartment in a little while and open it, see what it was. Sirius had said he could talk to him with it. He knew it had only been a few hours, but he couldn't think of anything that would make him feel better than hearing Sirius's voice.

He let his head fall back to rest on the seat, and tuned out whatever Hermione was lecturing about now.

Only two years, he though. He could deal with that. He could.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Author's Note:** Every time I thought I was done I started a new section. Eeeh. I've never written in this fandom or for this pairing. I'd really love to know what everyone thinks. I'm still debating continuing or not. Hope somebody enjoys it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters are my own. I make no money, only a small amount of joy off of any of this.

**Pairing:** Harry/Sirius

**Warnings:** Still a 15 year old Harry, though not much happens just yet. SLASH, if you don't like it then please don't read it. This chapter takes this story completely into the realm of AU, because I'm ignoring (more, like altering) the events at the end of OotP.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Hogwarts was falling to ruin. Or at least it seemed so to Harry. With no small amount of guilt he accepted that is was in good part due to Harry's own stupidity. It was his fault, no matter how much Ron and Hermione and even Sirius might say it was not, that Dumbledore had been forced to leave Hogwarts. And now, just as the Ministry had been hoping all year, Hogwarts rested in the hands of Dolores Umbridge.

Harry was growing used to the red hot anger that seemed to possess his entire being almost all the time. For the most part he managed to keep it inside, or at least he thought he did. But it was getting to be too much. It had been bad enough that Dumbledore was ignoring him entirely, that he had given Harry up to Snape's so-called teaching. But now Dumbledore was gone from the school entirely. The DA could no longer meet since the Room of Requirements had been discovered. He had no contact with anyone from the Order except for Sirius, but even Sirius seemed to not know what Dumbledore was up to. He had nowhere to vent his frustrations, his ever growing fury, at being placed on the sidelines. The DA meetings had helped, at least a bit.

There was some small comfort and amusement to be taken from the Weasley twins, who had started such a campaign of mischief that Harry wondered if any one would ever go through those halls who didn't know their names. But even their pranks, or the pranks that other students pulled in deference to them both, didn't abate the anger in Harry.

Of course talking to Sirius could almost always calm him down, though even that comfort had been limited. Because of the random searches being performed on the students Harry didn't dare keep Sirius's mirror with him. But nearly every night he pulled it out of his trunk, closed the curtains of his bed, and called Sirius's name against the cool glass.

Harry had the distinct impression, though he'd never directly asked, that Sirius carried his mirror with him no matter where he was. This meant that sometimes Harry called Sirius's name only to see a hand tightly covering the mirror, obviously trying to keep Harry from hearing or seeing what was going on. It was also, Sirius assured him, to keep certain Order Members from knowing that Sirius had ever given it to Harry in the first place.

But there had been several times when Harry had called out Sirius's name and the image of his godfather as it cleared up in the mirror's smooth surface had been rather- suggestive. Sirius's flushed apologies always seemed only half sincere and Harry wondered if the other man wasn't doing it on purpose. That didn't seem fair to Harry, since it was Sirius who had said they had to wait until Harry was of age. But in truth Harry didn't complain because those momentary flashes of bare, sweat sheened skin had provided him with much more realistic night time dreams.

There were other times though, when he knew he'd caught Sirius on the edge of some sort of breakdown, or sometimes just as he'd finished one. Sirius's eyes would be red and shadowed, his hair a mess. Harry could really only ever see Sirius in the mirror, but sometimes he caught a glimpse of the ruin of Sirius's room. This time spent with both of them being cooped up and unable to _do_ anything, it wasn't good for either of them. He could see the desire to run, to break free, in Sirius's eyes, in the way they glinted sometimes.

Harry missed Sirius in a way that made his bones ache. He hadn't been lying when he said nothing felt right. Sirius, he seemed to just know what Harry was feeling and to know when he should or should not say anything. It wasn't that no one else tried, but Harry had realized that it was the trying that was the problem. Sirius didn't need to try, he just got it. And it was more of a comfort than Harry could explain.

Harry found himself trying to remember every detail of that night in Grimmauld place with Sirius, just before he'd come back to Hogwarts. He bit his lower lip, remembering what Sirius had tasted like, and his skin, even now, burned at the memory of Sirius's hands. One hand moved up his neck to touch softly the spot where Sirius had left a mark on Harry. He'd been doing that a lot since leaving Grimmauld place and returning to Hogwarts. His other hand shook slightly and the papers balanced in his lap fell.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice sounded slightly worried. He snatched up his papers and settled them back in his lap.

"Huh?" He responded, not really meeting her eyes. Her frown deepened.

"Harry, are you alright?" She asked. He looked at her then, putting on his best face of innocence and confusion. But he could tell she didn't buy it.

"I'm fine, Hermione." He told her finally, which was mostly true. Today had gone by without having a direct confrontation with Umbridge, though Harry still roiled in with the desperate frustration he'd felt from the moment Dumbledore had left. Hermione was studying him carefully. He searched out Ron, but he was on the other side of the common room playing chess with Dean. It was just Harry and Hermione studying near the fire.

"Look, Harry, whoever it is you can talk to me you know." She said, leaning over her textbook so she could speak quietly. "I know it's not Cho, you haven't even looked in her direction since we came back from Christmas Holiday." She rolled her eyes at the look of confusion, this one quite genuine, that he threw at her.

"What about Cho?" He asked, thoroughly confused. She gave him an exasperated sigh.

"You're mooning over someone, Harry, that's obvious." She told him. His stomach twisted. Had he been obvious? "Well it's not Cho, like I said." She paused again, looking uncertain. "Is it- is it Luna? You two, I mean, you two seem to have connected a bit, haven't you? I mean- she's a bit odd but perfectly nice and rather pretty really, when she's not dressed completely outrageously."

Harry stared at her. He had no idea what to say to all that. Luna Lovegood? Really now. Not that she _wasn't_ perfectly nice or even not so bad to look at, but honestly. He opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came out. Honestly, if he denied it Hermione would just keep trying to figure out who it was. Harry was pretty sure she'd never guess it was Sirius, but with her one could never know. It was never wise to underestimate Hermione. She seemed to draw her own conclusion from his prolonged silence, saving him from making the decision at all.

"You should just say something to her, Harry. You can't stay this distracted. How will you ever be able to practice your Occlumency if your mind is wandering so badly?" At his blank look, she frowned harder. "You have asked Professor Snape to continue your lessons, haven't you? Even Sirius thinks you should. And even if Dumbledore is gone for now that doesn't change the fact that he said it was the most important thing for you, those lessons." She watched him closely. Harry flushed.

"I will. I just haven't had the time." He said stolidly. Hermione opened her mouth, obviously to scold him, but he put a hand up. "Honestly, Hermione, leave it be for tonight." He started piling up his books.

"Harry." She hissed. "You have to learn this! Do you really want You Know Who getting into your mind?" She demanded, though she kept her voice down. He scowled at her.

"I hardly even have those dreams anymore. So leave it." He snapped. She looked disbelieving. He should know better than to lie to Hermione, but he couldn't take her nagging just then.

"You don't?" She asked. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed." He said firmly and turned away before she could argue.

He made his way to the boy's dormitories and to the room he shared with Ron, Seamus, and Dean. Everyone else was still down stairs. He stopped to drop his books at the end of his bed and to grab the mirror from his trunk before kicking off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed. He closed his eyes.

Occlumency was a sore subject, to say the least. He didn't know what Dumbledore had been thinking, giving him over to Snape. The lessons had been awful. And if it wasn't bad enough, just the idea of Snape being in his mind, it was even worse now that he had those memories of that night with Sirius.

He wasn't good enough to keep Snape out. He and Sirius had spent plenty of time worrying about what would happen if Snape saw them together in Harry's mind. But there was nothing for it but to push on and try to keep Sirius completely off his mind once he entered Snape's rooms. They both agreed, though Harry more reluctantly than Sirius, that Harry had to learn Occlumency. And there was no way, at least that they were willing to do, that would take those memories from Harry.

Keeping Sirius off his mind had seemed to work for the most part. But there had been a night when Snape had made a remark about Harry being as irresponsible and useless as his criminal godfather and then he'd blasted his way into Harry's mind.

Harry had done the only thing he could think of; he'd cast _protego _on him, sending Snape back a few feet so that he hit into his desk. Snape had been furious.

"What are you trying to hide, Potter?" He'd snarled, wand pointed at Harry.

When he'd tried to enter Harry's mind once more Harry had cast it again, furious himself now and with much more power than he'd meant to use. And Snape had flown backwards to slam into one of his shelves.

Harry hadn't waited around to see what the man would do. He'd run from the dungeons, his mind whirling frantically. Snape couldn't know, he'd thought frantically. If he saw- if he saw what had happened at Christmas- what would he do with that information? Harry had stopped just outside of Gryffindor Tower, shuddering and feeling like he might vomit. Snape couldn't know. He could _never _be allowed to know.

Harry hadn't taken the mirror out of his trunk that night. He hadn't wanted Sirius to know what had happened. He didn't want him to worry anymore than he already did about Harry.

The next week went by and no one said anything to him, not Snape himself or Dumbledore He ignored the next scheduled lesson, and in the week that followed too much had happened for him to give it another thought; the DA being found out, Dumbledore fleeing the school. It wasn't until the next week that he'd gone down on the appointed night for his lesson, and that had only been because Hermione wouldn't let up on him. Snape had seemed content to not mention the week before, he didn't even talk about Dumbledore having been run off, but there was a nasty gleam in his eyes that had Harry swallowing hard.

But Harry had been saved by the sudden entrance of Draco Malfoy, and while he'd had to endure a small humiliation, it was nothing compared to what he thought Snape would have done. He'd been going to leave. But as he was turning to leave he'd seen the silver light of a Pensieve in a half opened cupboard and had been drawn to it.

He shouldn't have looked, but he did. And what he saw- pity wasn't something he had ever thought to feel for Snape. But seeing that memory had inspired just that emotion. A harsh hand on his shoulder had dragged him out of the memory, throwing him bodily to the floor. He'd almost wanted to tell Snape that he was sorry for him, for what he had seen, for how his father had acted like a jackass. But Snape had been terrifying, more so than ever before, and when he'd told Harry to go and that his lessons were over Harry had bolted.

It had been days before he could bring himself to talk to Sirius about it.

Sirius had brought Remus in on that conversation. They'd done what they could to make him feel better about it, but it was still hard to swallow. Then Remus had left to talk to Dumbledore and Sirius and Harry had stared at each other in silence for a while.

Sirius had known the one worry that Harry hadn't asked about in front of Lupin. Harry hadn't needed to explain, to tell Sirius that seeing his father; young and handsome and somewhat stupid had made Harry wonder if what Sirius saw in him was James. Sirius had watched Harry's face and then let out a sad sigh.

"I know you aren't James, Harry. I wouldn't want you to be." He'd said softly and Harry had released a breath he had not even realized he was holding. "There was nothing- nothing between James and me. He was my best friend and I miss him everyday, Harry, but I don't see him when I look at you or when I think- when I-." He shook his head and then gave Harry a look that pinned him. "I don't. For Merlin's sake, Harry, it's only you." He'd ground out, looking pained. He'd reached a hand towards the mirror and Harry had never wanted so much to run away from Hogwarts. What would he have given, what would he _not_ have given, to be with Sirius right at that moment?

Something that had been coiled in Harry's chest seemed to ease. Harry had smiled softly and touched the mirror where he could see Sirius's fingers resting against it.

"I know, Sirius." Was all he had said. And Sirius had given him a small, lop-sided grin in return. It had been some time before they had said goodnight.

Harry gave a low groan of frustration and rolled onto his back, holding the mirror up above him. That had been weeks ago. His frustration had not abated. And he wanted nothing more than to run from Hogwarts and find some kind of comfort with Sirius.

"Sirius Black." He whispered to, bringing the mirror close so that his breath misted the surface. He pulled it back to watch the mist start to swirl and slowly start to form something solid.

Sirius's face became clear.

…………….

Harry looked exhausted, he looked the way Sirius felt.

"Harry." He said quietly, with a small smile forming on his lips. It was hard not to smile when he saw Harry.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Sirius just shook his head.

No need to worry Harry with what was essentially no news. Disappearances, strange deaths, Order Members obviously caught and put under the _Imperius_ curse, all of it seeming for nothing because the Ministry would still not admit that Voldemort had returned. And now Dumbledore was out of Hogwarts.

Just the thought of it made Sirius's stomach turn. Harry was basically alone in Hogwarts now. Oh, Molly might argue otherwise just because McGonagall and Hagrid were still there, but Sirius knew better.

Dumbledore had been back to Headquarters only twice since leaving Hogwarts. The first time Sirius had tried to argue that Harry, along with Hermione and the Weasley children, should be brought back to Grimmauld place. But before Dumbledore could even answer Molly Weasley had gotten between them, shaking her finger in Sirius's face like he was a bad dog and lecturing him on the importance of Harry's education, and that the children were safer in Hogwarts than anywhere near the Order of the Phoenix. As if there were any safer place than this, where no one could speak of its location and Order Members were constantly storming in and out. As if their so called education would matter at all, when Umbridge wasn't teaching them how to defend themselves, and Voldemort and his Death Eaters were out there, waiting, and killing.

They had drawn all the other Order Members that had been in the house with their shouting. But damn it all if he wasn't fed up with the woman's interference. She kept throwing it in his face that he wanted Harry with him, that that was his motivation for wanting him out of Hogwarts. He never denied that he wanted Harry with him, not to anyone who actually bothered to ask before making assumptions; which meant only Remus and Tonks. Of course he wanted Harry with him, he wanted him safe and somewhere he could keep an eye on him.

Umbridge was dangerous. Dumbledore was almost positive that she'd been behind the Dementor attack in Little Whinging. And if Dumbledore was almost positive than it was a good bet the woman had done it. How could they possibly expect him to just sit by and accept that Harry had to stay within her reach? They should be getting him out now, for his own safety.

Sirius had explained all this to Dumbledore. But the man had smiled at him with that thoroughly annoying twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh I'm quite sure you're keeping a very good eye on Harry, Sirius." He'd said. Sirius had stopped short at that, wondering if Remus who was the only one who knew he'd given Harry the mirror had told Dumbledore. He ignored the suspicious look that had come over Molly's face.

"Keeping an eye on him?" Molly had shouted, and Sirius had ground his teeth so hard it hurt. "You should be staying out of it! If he says Harry's fine where he is, Sirius Black, you should trust that! All you'll do-." Arthur had come up behind her and was trying to get her to stop, but she ignored him. "-is get the child into _trouble_! Honestly, Sirius, it's not as if you've ever been able to _really_ protect-."

Sirius had snarled then, no words, just sound and bared teeth. Molly had taken a step back and eyed him as if he were a rabid animal. Maybe she wasn't wrong, because it had felt like something wild and dangerous had been unleashed in his chest. Sirius had half expected Dumbledore to scold him, but the old wizard had merely watched, along with half of the Order.

"Leave off it, Molly!" Sirius had growled, his hand clenching on the mirror in his pocket. "You don't- you don't know anything about what it's like to want to protect people and not be able to! Or to think that you're doing the _right_ thing, the _smart _thing, that you've thought of _all the possibilities_. And then have it _all turn out wrong_!" He panted out, feeling crazy and lost and thinking of Lily and James and Peter bloody Pettigrew. How they'd all thought they'd known best. They were a million steps ahead of Voldemort. They'd thought they were safe, the way all these people seemed to think that Harry was safe. And they had all been so very wrong.

Out of the corner of his eyes he'd seen Remus start to move forward, but Tonks had grabbed his shoulder, shaking her head slightly. And Sirius had never been more grateful for the girl. He hadn't wanted comfort just then.

Molly opened her mouth to argue, face pale. Her hands were shaking and he was almost certain that she was going to faint. He gave her credit for her determination, but didn't let her speak.

"He's not _you_r son." He ground out. "He's not _mine_ either." He paused; anger still coursing through his body, but it was tampered by the feeling of defeat, of long years of knowing he would always be the one to fail. "I wasn't here before, not because I didn't want to be but because I couldn't be. But I'm here _now_. And they wanted me to look after him. So he's mine now. And I'll take care of him." She'd started to speak again and he'd lost it. "LEAVE IT BE!" He'd snarled, sounding nearly inhuman even to his own ears. He felt his lips curled back from his teeth, felt his hands clench.

She'd cowered for a moment, this woman who was brave in the face of almost everything, and he might have felt sorry if he'd had any room for any emotion other than fury and helplessness.

In the silence he'd created came his mother's wailing. He'd turned to go up the stairs and found himself face to face with Dumbledore, who still looked unperturbed even though Sirius growled at him. Instinct was a hard thing to let go of. He felt cornered. He wanted out. He wanted his mother to shut up. He stared at Dumbledore, felt his lip curling.

"He'd better be safe, and he'd better stay that way." He'd said, deadly quiet, ignoring the startled gasp that came from someone watching. But Dumbledore had merely bowed his head a fraction. Sirius had stormed up the stairs then.

"SHUT UP, YOU CRACKED OLD WOMAN!" He shouted.

He'd been struggling with the curtains when Remus had come to help him. They managed it eventually and after had stood staring at one another.

Remus had put a hand on his shoulder, but Sirius had shoved it off, half running the rest of the way up the stairs to the room where a Christmas tree had once stood and he'd kissed the boy he was supposed to watch over. He heard Remus come in behind him.

"Don't." Sirius said through clenched teeth. Remus had shuffled closer.

"You know it wasn't your fault." Remus said softly. Sirius opened his mouth, still furious, but Remus turned him around fast and put a calloused hand to Sirius's mouth. "It wasn't your fault." He said again. He removed his hand. "Sirius-."

"I should have known. I should have known what that_ rat_ would-." He couldn't finish, hadn't been able to say the words. "I failed them. I can't fail Harry too." He whispered, his voice ragged.

"James and Lily made the choice too, Sirius." Remus told him, voice still subdued and quiet, but it had a hard edge to it. "If there had been an obvious reason not to trust Peter than they should have seen it too."

Sirius glared at him, feeling fury pouring through his veins again.

"There was no way they could have known!" He snarled, furious at Remus for insinuating that it could have been James's fault, or Lily's. "There were no signs! Wormtail was always scared of his own bloody shadow! If he was jumpy it was no more than he ever was. Why would they have thought it was anything but that?" Remus gave him a heartbroken smile.

"Then why would you?" He asked him, voice no more than a whisper. "How could you have known?"

Sirius deflated, all that rage and anger leaving him. He hadn't had any response to that. He'd slumped to the floor, tears in his eyes that didn't fall. And Remus had wrapped his arms around him. For some time they had sat like that.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, sounding worried. "What's wrong?"

Sirius gave a small start and looked down at the mirror. Harry's face looked back up at him. He smiled.

"Nothing. Just let my mind wander." He explained. It was almost the truth.

"Please talk to me. Tell me something." Harry begged. There was a desperation to his voice that hadn't been there before. It made Sirius nervous. It made him want, more than anything, to grab the boy and bring him back to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, knowing it was the wrong question, but asking it anyway. He waited for the blow up that he knew would come.

"What's wrong? What's wrong, Sirius, is that I'm stuck here and no one's telling me anything!" He snapped. "Tell me _something_!" He begged again. Sirius sighed.

"Dumbledore's been here twice since he left Hogwarts. I tried to get him to bring you here but he wouldn't." Harry had looked so hopeful for just a moment, then his face fell. "He's had the Order step up security on the- the thing that Voldemort's after. Other than that, it's all the same." He continued quickly before Harry could ask about what the Order was guarding. "We're- well _they_- are still trying to recruit people. But it's not going well right now."

Harry looked worried. Sirius ran his hand over the glass, across Harry's reflected cheek. Harry's eyes closed and his head tilted as though he could really feel him. It made Sirius's heart ache.

"I miss you." Harry murmured. "And I'm scared. I'm scared of being here, I'm scared of Voldemort getting into my head. I'm just scared. There's no one else I can say that to." He opened his eyes to finally look at Sirius again.

"Have you been having dreams?" Sirius asked carefully, knowing that this too was a delicate subject. Harry looked away from him and it was all the answer he needed. "Have you talked to Snape yet, then?"

Snape hadn't been to Headquarters in some time, not since Dumbledore had escaped Hogwarts. If he had been Sirius would have given him a piece of his own mind for stopping Harry's Occlumency lessons. He didn't care what kind of grudge the stupid git had against James and Sirius; Dumbledore should have been stopping him from taking it out on Harry.

Harry's silence was another answer. Sirius sighed.

"You've got to go to him, Harry." Harry gave him a mutinous look but said nothing. "I don't like it any better than you do, but those lessons are important, Harry. Now more than ever with Dumbledore gone, you've got to keep You-Know-Who out of your mind." He said it gently and tried to keep his own worry and frustration out of his tone.

Harry looked frightened and then shame faced.

"I know." He said, and then was silent. Sirius frowned. Talking about Occlumency and Snape was another sure fire way to get Harry not talking. He wished there was more he could do. But what could he do, when he was confined to Grimmauld place and Harry to Hogwarts?

"I miss you too." Sirius said.

He looked around the room he sat in, which was cold and dark again without the Christmas tree and lights and- well- without Harry. When he looked back down at the mirror Harry was blushing and there was small smile playing on his full lips. Sirius had the strong desire to kiss that smile. He cleared his throat, and Harry looked up at him. Whatever he was thinking must have shown on his face because Harry flushed brighter.

"Sirius-." His face was serious again, just like that. And Sirius knew too well the rapid flow of emotions from something resembling joy to complete misery. "What's going to happen, Sirius?"

"I don't know." Sirius said honestly and felt sick to his stomach.

Harry looked away abruptly.

"Everyone's coming to bed. I should go." He said, giving Sirius a pained look. Sirius nodded even as his heart sank.

"Tomorrow then. Try not to fret Harry. You've your O.W.L.s soon, haven't you?" He asked, thinking even as he said it that O.W.Ls wouldn't mean a damn with a war coming.

Harry gave a contemptuous snort that made Sirius chuckle.

"Goodnight, Harry." He said softly, touching the glass. Harry's hand reached up to match his.

"Night, Sirius." He answered.

Sirius murmured an incantation and the mirror clouded a misty grey and then cleared, revealing his own reflection. He stared down at his face in the glass. Did he really look that old? Sometimes he didn't quite believe what had happened that night before Harry left. He shook his head.

"Bloody lecher." He muttered to himself.

"Hardly." A voice said from the hallway. Remus leaned against the door. He was so pale, so drawn, that Sirius was on his feet, mirror sliding into his pocket, and moving towards him before he'd even thought.

"Moony?" He put a hand on his shoulder and Remus shook his head.

"I'm okay, Padfoot. Just tired." He said and he sounded it.

"You've been gone a while." Sirius said. Remus sighed.

"It's not going well Sirius. If Fudge doesn't come to his senses soon…" He trailed off. Sirius growled.

"Wish I could _do_ something." He said angrily.

"You are doing something." Remus told him simply. Sirius stared at him. Obviously the man was too exhausted to know what he was saying. Remus smiled. "You're doing the most important thing and no one even knows. Except for me and Dumbledore, I would think." At Sirius's questioning glance he continued. "You're keeping Harry from getting in the middle of it. He's already on edge. McGonagall says he's like a live-wire; she's just waiting for him to snap. Think of how much worse it would be if he didn't have the mirror or you."

Sirius doubted he was helping all that much. In so many ways he and Harry just seemed to deeper each other; both full of useless, impotent rage. Both trapped. But he didn't want to talk about that to Moony, who looked as though he might have liked a few days of being locked up and not on the move.

"Let's get you some food, Moony. You look like hell." He managed a slight grin, that brought an answering smile to Remus's pale face, and he led the other man from the room.

………………….

Harry's nerves were shot. It wasn't the O.W.Ls; he found it hard to worry about them when he knew what was actually waiting for them all in the world outside of Hogwarts. But last night Hagrid had been chased off, and people were saying that McGonagall was in St. Mungo's, after all the stunners that had hit her in her attempt to help Hagrid.

More than that there was something wrong with the mirror that Sirius had given him. After what had happened just last night he'd tried to get a hold of Sirius, but the mirror had clouded with thick black smoke as opposed to it's usual misty grey and Sirius had never appeared. He'd been trying every hour on the hour since. His eyes were slightly blurry from his lack of sleep. But he couldn't think of a reason why the mirror wasn't working. Unless something had happened.

His stomach and chest tightened convulsively when he thought of the possibilities. His hand reached down to touch the mirror in his pocket. He'd risk Umbridge finding it before he would risk missing Sirius if he tried to contact Harry.

Stifling a yawn, feeling his jaw crack in the attempt, Harry bent his head over the sheet he was supposed to be writing his answers on. He tried to concentrate on it, but he couldn't. There was an ache in his head, right where his scar was. And he wanted very badly to believe it was just a heachache caused by his lack of sleep. But he knew better. His hand left the mirror and rubbed at his forehead. He tried to ignore it. It really might have been nothing. And if it was what he feared it was, then it was probably best not to think about it. Hadn't that been the point of the Occlumency lessons? To clear his mind?

He pressed his quill firmly down on the parchment, but was unable to write. The ink stain grew and spread. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He blinked heavily, once, twice, and his eyes fell shut.

The hallway was dimly lit, as it had been every time he'd come here. He had the dual sensation of being both Harry, walking down the hallway, and someone who was already amid the stacks of glass spheres. A roaring scream pierced the air, and down the hallway, where he was headed, he could see two figures.

The screaming stopped by the time he finally arrived. The dual sensation was gone, he was aware only of one body, but was also alarmingly aware that that body was not his. He stood over a prone body, huddled on the floor, groaning in pain.

"All you have to do is take it down for me." A high pitched voice said. The person on the floor said nothing. "Take it." He said again, voice hissing.

"I'll die first!" The man on the floor snarled, and Harry's heart froze. He knew that voice, it was the voice of every peaceful moment he'd had in the last few months. And as if that thought had called him, Sirius Black raised his head to face his torturer.

His hair was mattered and though it was dark in the hall and Harry could not see well, he knew it was with blood. The side of his face was mottled purple and black. But he wore a twisted grin in defiance and he held his head as high as he could manage.

Harry saw in him then, despite all the damage done to him, the cocky, beautiful boy he had been. His heart swelled with emotion. The body, which was not his, doubled over, then righted itself.

"Oh Sirius." Harry breathed, watching the motionless, defiant face of the man on the ground. But what he heard as harsh laughter, and if it sounded a bit forced he wasn't in any position to notice.

"There's no doubt that you will die. Blood traitors must die. But you will remove the prophecy from the shelf before I send you on your way." One thin, bone white hand pointed towards a shelf full of glass spheres.

"No!" Sirius said defiantly. And he spat blood at Voldemort's feet.

"Ah, dear boy. So defiant. So bold. No wonder he loves you." The high voice hissed, the disdain in his voice obvious. Sirius's eyes widened just a fraction. "You see, there is very little that I do not know." Sirius's face set into hard lines of cold hatred. The voice laughed again. "I will enjoy very much taking away little Harry Potter's great love." He pointed his wand at Sirius. "Crucio!"

Sirius grit his teeth, but the scream forced its way out.

Harry tried to break free of the hold on his mind.

"No! NO!" He screamed, reaching towards Sirius's jerking form.

He fell from the desk, and landed hard on the floor. His head connected with a loud thud. He pressed his hands to his forehead and felt the wet of blood on them.

"No, no, no." He whispered. He could hear the other students shouting, someone touched his shoulder but he jerked away as if burned. He pulled his hands away from his face and frantically tried to wipe the blood away. One of the Ministry Examiners knelt down next to him.

"Did you fall asleep?" She asked Harry. He looked up at her and she gasped as she caught sight of the blood. "Oh my, did you hit your head?" She stepped back a bit as Harry rose unsteadily to his feet. He put his hand back over his scar.

"Can I- can I go to the hospital wing?" He asked shakily. His free hand felt for the mirror in his pocket. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry grabbed his test papers, shoved them into her hand and then walked quickly from the hall without waiting for her answer.

……………..

"Sirius?"

"Black, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"If you would just tell us-."

Sirius jerked his head around, looking up at Remus, Moody, and Tonks. He was bent down under the kitchen sink, hands full of the junk Kreacher had collected.

"The mirror is gone." Sirius snapped. He threw the handful he had and started pushing more junk aside. He heard the thunk of Mad Eye leaving the kitchen, obviously no longer concerned with what Sirius was doing. He felt someone kneel down beside him.

"You think Kreacher took it?" Remus asked. Sirius turned his head to look at him.

"Who else?" He growled.

"Maybe you mispl-."

"That mirror has been with me every second of the day since he left this house! I did not misplace it!" He shouted. Remus favored him with a disapproving look.

"Don't shout at me." He said calmly.

"Do you need one of us to stay and help you find your- um- mirror?" Tonks asked, obviously confused.

Remus left Sirius's side and walked over to Tonks. Whatever he said was too low for Sirius to hear. But she nodded slowly and then left the room, though she sent a doubtful glance in Sirius's direction.

Sirius turned back to Kreacher's den, picking through mixture of trash, memorabilia, and junk. It had to be in there, it had to. Remus returned to his side and put a hand on his back.

"I can stay." Remus offered. Sirius shook his head.

"No, no. I'll find it. I'm sure he has it. Wretched little-." Sirius clenched his hand. When he found that useless rag of a house elf, he'd wring his neck.

"Sirius."

"I'm just worried that after last night with McGonagall and Hagrid- he's bound to be confused and worried, Remus, and the damned thing was missing last night. If he doesn't know what's going on…" He trailed off for a moment as the worry overwhelmed him. He took a deep breath. "You were right when you said he was like me, Remus. If he's left without any information- with no one there to talk to- I don't know what he'll do." His voice was shaking. There was something in the air, it was all wrong. He looked at Remus, who was watching him carefully. He opened his mouth to say something; he wasn't sure what, maybe to beg the other man to get Harry for him.

"Oi, Remus, Moody says we've got to leave now if we're to get back early." She gave Sirius an uncertain smile that he couldn't quite bring himself to return. Remus looked uncertainly at Sirius, but Sirius gave him a gruff nod.

"Go on, I'll find the mirror." Remus nodded. "Tell Hagrid I say hello, then."

Remus stood and followed Tonks to the doorway of the kitchen. He turned back, hand clenching hard on the door frame, to look at Sirius.

"Just don't- if you don't find it- don't _do_ anything. We'll be back soon, and we'll figure something out about Harry. I think he's safe where he is for just now." He turned slowly and left the room.

Sirius turned back to Kreacher's den and ran his eyes over the ruin he'd made of Kreacher's collected filth. With a sigh he stood up. He was alone in the kitchen now, alone in the house. He drew his hands through his hair and felt them shaking. Apprehension thrummed through his entire body. If only he could get out of the house. Get to Harry.

He needed to find the mirror. It was getting late in the afternoon, Harry would be done with his tests soon and he'd be calling for Sirius, if he wasn't already. He turned to leave the kitchen. And found himself face to face with Kreacher.

He reacted faster than thought- moving forward and grabbing Kreacher by the neck.

"Where is it?" He snarled, lips curled back. Kreacher cringed.

"Kreacher- Kreacher came to tell master that the hippogriff is injured." The elf choked out. That stopped Sirius. How had Buckbeak gotten injured? He looked at Kreacher, who was cringing away from him, but still managing an expression of pure loathing. With a frustrated growl he pushed the house elf away from him.

He left the kitchen and began taking the stairs two at a time. What he hadn't heard before he could hear now; the painful keening of the hippogriff that had saved his life.

……………

"I'm telling you, he has _Sirius_!" Harry ground out, staring down at the black, smoke filled mirror in his hand. "Why else wouldn't the mirror work?" He let out an inarticulate cry of frustration. "Sirius Black!" He cried again, louder this time, at the deadened mirror. Fear twisted his insides until he felt he couldn't breath.

Hermione and Ron looked anxiously around the hallway.

"Someone's going to hear you!" Hermione hissed, though the hallway was empty.

"I don't care! He's got him! _Voldemort_ has Sirius!" He looked up and down the hallway himself now. Umbridge still had his broom, but there had to be another way he could get to the Ministry. "How do I get there?" He mumbled, fingers tightening on the mirror.

"Harry, you can't really be thinking of going there." Hermione said.

"Can't I?" Harry shouted at her, feeling the rage he'd felt all year boiling up inside him. How could she be so calm?

"Look, Harry, just stop and think! There was a _reason_ Dumbledore wanted you to learn to keep You-Know-Who out of your mind! It's just- don't you think that maybe- just maybe he made you see-."

"If Sirius was okay I'd be able to see him in the mirror! I'm not _stupid_, Hermione!"

"Well I never said-." Hermione began.

"He's got a point, you know. He's been talking to Sirius on that thing since he got back to school. Plus he saw my dad, didn't he? And it saved his life!" Ron said stolidly, standing next to Harry.

Harry would have felt better about having Ron's support if it weren't for the sickening feeling that he was wasting time. What would he do if-? No, he couldn't follow that line of thought.

"Look, I'm not saying that he didn't save your father! I'm just saying he should be more _careful_! It's five in the afternoon, they'll be people in the Ministry won't there? So why would Voldemort go marching in? And you know Dumbledore's refused to let Sirius out of the house!" Hermione argued, looking both hurt and angry.

That stopped Harry for a moment, but then he remembered Sirius saying that Dumbledore had been stepping up security on whatever Voldemort was after. A prophecy he knew now. What did he want with a prophecy?

"Sirius said they were putting more security on what Voldemort was after. Maybe he finally had to let Sirius do something!" he argued.

"He's nearly as wanted as Voldemort is- or would be if Fudge would ever- well either way, how could they use Sirius?" She demanded.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He bellowed, and Hermione actually flinched away from him. "I just know he's got him and I can't let him- I can't- I _can't_-." He could finish, it was hard to breath. He put a hand to his chest and felt tears burning his eyes. "Not _Sirius_." He moaned quietly, closing his eyes.

"Harry? Harry, are you okay?" Hermione put a hand on his shoulder but he jerked away from her and staggered a couple of feet away. He didn't catch the look that Ron and Hermione shared. "Alright, Harry. Maybe we could check somehow, you know, see if Sirius is home. Just to double check.

Harry turned, still burning with his anger but drowning in despair, and just not knowing what to do. There was no one left at Hogwarts to trust and Sirius- oh Sirius. He moaned again not aware of doing so.

"How?" He rasped out. "How? The mirror's not…" He shook his head.

"Umbridge's fire!" Hermione said, though she didn't sound happy about it. "We can- we can create a diversion and you could use the fire. That way you would know. And if he's not there then I swear, Harry, I swear we'll go get him ourselves!"

Harry stared at her, shocked.

"Ron, can find her and tell her- I don't know- something and then we'll go to her office and use her fire. That way, just in case the mirror is lost or broken, then you'll know for sure. Okay? Okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded, he couldn't speak.

"Everything, okay?" came a voice from behind them. Ron let out a surprised shriek and rounded on Ginny with a furious expression. "What?" She asked defiantly. She looked at Harry, who was pale and shaking, and Hermione, who looked like she might be sick. "What's wrong? It's not dad again is it?" She asked, looking worried.

"Sirius." Harry managed to croak out. Her eyes widened.

"What's happened to Sirius?"

"Harry saw a vision during his O.W.Ls. He thinks-." Hermione began.

"I don't _think_ it! I saw it! Voldemort's got Sirius at the Ministry." Harry snarled. Anger shoved despair out of the way and it liberated him to move, to speak, to _do _something. Ginny just nodded.

"So what are we going to do? She asked. Ron shook his head.

"You aren't doing anything." He told her firmly. Ginny ignored him.

"Are we going or what? Anyone know how we plan on getting to the Ministry? We're sure he's got him?" She looked around at all three of them.

"We're going to check in the fire, in Umbridges's fire." Hermione told her just as Harry was about to start shouting again. "Ron's going to go tell her something to get her away."

"I can keep watch." Ginny suggested. "And Luna was just down the hall, she'd help." Hermione was nodding.

"Then let's go." Harry said. "We're taking too long."

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny shared an uneasy look. Then Ginny went down the hall and Ron took off in the direction they'd last seen Umbridge. Hermione and Harry started towards Umbridge's office.

His heart was lodged in his throat; he fought the urge to run, not wanting to draw attention. He couldn't lose Sirius. Not Sirius. Not yet. Not ever.

……………

Sirius and Remus were in the room with Buckbeak, bandaging his left wing when Snape slammed the door open. Buckbeak gave a raucous scream and tried to flap his wings. Remus gave a shout and put his weight down on the broken one to keep it from moving.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Snivellus?" Sirius demanded. Remus, having calmed down Buckbeak so that at least he would not ruin the bandages on his wing, gave him a reproving glare.

"Severus?" The other man looked quite out of sorts. He was glaring at Sirius, but it seemed his heart was not in it. His face, for lack of a better word, softened as he turned his head to look at Remus.

"There's a problem." Snape said, though his voice seemed unusually lacking in arrogance. Remus threw a cautious glance at Sirius and then made his way across the room to Snape, who lowered his head to speak with Remus. For several long moments they stood with their heads bent together.

"Stop that whispering, what the bloody hell is going on?" Sirius finally shouted. Snape looked down his nose at him. Remus turned to look at Sirius.

"It's Harry." He said carefully. Sirius felt his heart jump into his throat. He stood so suddenly he was dizzy. He reached a hand out and steadied himself on Buckbeak, who nudged him.

"What?" He asked. Remus took a step towards him.

"Severus said that he was caught using Umbridge's fire. She was trying to get him to confess who he was trying to reach, but he wouldn't tell her obviously, so she called for Severus to bring _veritaserum_. He says that as he was leaving Harry said 'He's got Padfoot. He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden, I saw it.' But Harry somehow convinced her to go off into the Forbidden Forest with him, looking for a- a weapon?" He looked back questioningly at Snape, as if checking the fact. Snape nodded. "They haven't come back. If he got away from her he might have tried to find a way to the Ministry." Remus looked worried. "You still haven't found the mirror?" He asked Sirius. Sirius frowned.

"I had to take care of Buckbeak and he wasn't making it easy. I didn't get back to looking. I should have thought- but why should he think anyone's got me?" He asked. But he had the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he knew. Harry had seen it; he must have, and if he'd seen it then Voldemort had sent the vision to him on purpose.

"One would assume that your lackluster godson has failed once more to keep the Dark Lord out of his mind." Snape drawled. Remus shot him an angry look and for a wonder Snape looked away from Sirius. What the hell was that?

"We have to get Harry." Sirius said, starting towards the door. Remus grabbed his shoulders and stopped him. Sirius glared at him. "Remus." He said warningly. He saw Snape, behind Remus, move slightly, then stop.

"You need to stay here, Sirius, to tell Dumbledore what's happened when he arrives. Everyone downstairs is getting ready to head to the Ministry in case Harry's gone there. Severus will search for him at Hogwarts. He may still be there. But you can't go to the Ministry, Sirius, and someone needs to be here." He said. Sirius stared at him.

"Is that what _Severus_ says we should do?" He sneered. "What's with you calling him that?" He demanded. Fury, fury so great it made him see red was all he could feel. Remus blanched and looked back at Snape, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. Sirius stared at them, not sure what he was seeing. "Well?" He asked, looking between them both.

"Not now, Sirius, don't start something now, not when Harry could be in trouble. Stay here, Padfoot, stay here so you can tell Dumbledore and keep looking for the mirror. If you can find it then you can see for yourself where he is." Remus's hands on his shoulders tightened. "Please, Siri, I can't worry about you both." He said quietly. Sirius looked at him.

"Fine. Fine. But if you find him you bring him back _here_. I mean it, Remus, I want him here with me." He snarled, hating the idea of being here and not doing anything. Remus backed away from him slowly, heading towards the door.

"I will, Sirius, I'll bring him back here if we find him. I'm sure he's fine. He's probably at school where he out to be." He said, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at Sirius before leaving. Snape stayed where he was for a moment, just staring at Sirius. Sirius growled and turned away.

"Get the hell out of here, Snivelly, before I hex you through the wall." He snapped. His hand clenched on his wand. He heard Snape's snort of amusement, and he turned, wand leveled at the man. The practiced look of indifference on Snape's face brought the fury back to the surface. "I told you to get out." He said, deadly quiet.

"You should have seen his face, Black, when he said the Dark Lord had you." Snape said coldly. "He was quite- undone."

"Get out of here." Sirius growled. Snape stared at him a moment longer.

"Of course. I shall go. _I_ will look for Potter. I'm sure we'll find him. Try not to worry yourself too much." The sneer held quite a bit of amusement, and had Snape not started walking away at that precise moment he would have been beaten and bloody.

Sirius stared at the spot he'd been, mind becoming too full of worry for Harry to continue to wonder about Remus suddenly calling Snape Severus, or to really worry about Snape's jabs.

He had to find the mirror. If he didn't, and Harry got himself hurt, how would Sirius ever forgive himself? He'd nearly forgotten about the mirror in helping Buckbeak. He should have kept looking, or asked Remus to look while Sirius tended Buckbeak on his own. He turned around the room. Perhaps it was in here. He started moving things, old books, copies of the _Prophet_. Buckbeak ruffled the feathers of his uninjured wing in annoyance.

He spent all of fifteen minutes looking before he decided to find Kreacher and demand an answer like he had been going to before.

He stormed down the stairs, shouting Kreacher's name, throwing a hand over the curtain of his mother's portrait before she could even begin her screeching.

Kreacher arrived in front of him with a loud _crack_.

"Master summons Kreacher?" The house elf asked. "Perhaps if master did not bring so many blood traitors into-."

"Shut up." He said and Kreacher went silent. "Where is the mirror?" He demanded, having no doubt at all as to who had taken it. He'd never lost it, not once when he used it with James and certainly not once he'd given its partner to Harry.

"There are many mirrors, Master. Kreacher knows of a lovely one that was in his great Mistress's bedroom that only shown with the reflections of pure-bloods-." Sirius's hand shot out and grabbed the elf, giving him a hard shake.

"The mirror I kept in my pocket, Kreacher, you know the one. Where is it?" He watched as the elf turned a shade paler and put a hand over his mouth. His voice came out mumbled. "Move your hand and tell me where it is."

"It is in the room, master." Kreacher said.

"What room?" Sirius demanded, giving the elf another shake.

"The room that master favors so. In the desk drawer." Kreacher answered. Sirius looked at the elf, wondering if he knew more than he should about why Sirius liked that room. There had been something in his tone. Sirius didn't have time to find out though. He had to go. He let Kreacher go and broke into a full run, nearly hitting the doorframe as he entered the room.

He grabbed the mirror, sitting so innocently in the drawer, and looked at it. It was cracked. He stared at it in horror, not sure if a simple _reparo_ spell would work on it. The surface was swirling with black smoke. He lifted his wand, hand shaking. He watched as the mirror's cracks closed, slowly, so slowly. As if the mirror itself was fighting the spell. Finally though, the mirror was whole again, its surface cleared of the dark smoke.

"Harry Potter!" He said to it, not wasting anymore time. The mist swirled as it should, perhaps a bit darker than usual, but certainly not the ominous black it had been a moment before. When it cleared all he saw was impenetrable darkness.

"Harry?" He cried.

"No, Hermione! DUCK!" Harry's voice screamed. There was the sound of something exploding. "_Expelliarmus!"_ He cried. Someone cried out in surprise. "Go! GO! Not that door!"

"HARRY!" He screamed. But his voice was not heard. His heart was racing. He muttered the incantation to the mirror and the surface misted and then cleared. His own fear filled face looked back at him.

He couldn't wait anymore. He had to go and he had to go now. He summoned Kreacher again and ordered the elf to wait for Dumbledore, to tell him everything that was happening. And then he left, the mirror in his pocket, for the Ministry.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I decided to keep going with it. As I said it will be AU from this point on. On a side not, writing this is making me feel better after reading Deathly Hallows in just 6 hours. I'm still feeling emotionally ragged. I hope you all like this new chapter. Please review if you've read it. It's always good to know what people are thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Most certainly is not mine. If it were than book Seven might have gone a bit differently. All characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a moment.

**Pairing:** Harry/Sirius

**Warnings:** Still a 15 year old Harry, though not much happens just yet. SLASH, if you don't like it then please don't read it. This story is completely AU, not only because I'm ignoring (more, like altering) the events at the end of OotP, but because we know how the story ends now, and mine is nothing at all like the real thing.

**Author's Notes:** I've gone in a direction I did not expect to go. I hope everyone enjoys.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Everything hurt.

He ached all over and his muscles screamed in pain with his every move. It was worse than it had been in the graveyard just a year ago. He held a hand to his side, where something had cut him, though he couldn't seem to remember what. There was hot blood pouring slowly through his fingers. There was sweat burning his eyes. He blinked rapidly to see straight. He knew with a sinking feeling in his gut that there was no way he could get out of this. He would die and so would his friends. He wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to abate the stinging.

He could hear the calls of the Death Eaters on the other side of the door. He had run in a desperate attempt to lead them away from his friends. But even that might not help. Hermione was unconscious and Ron might have been strangled by the brain that he'd been fighting off already for all he knew. Ginny's ankle had obviously been broken and Luna's face had had blood running down the side of it from an injury Harry had not been able to see.

And Neville, stupid and brave Neville, had darted behind Harry just as he'd left the room where the others were and had stuck by his side through the two rooms Harry had run through since. All the while the sound of the Death Eaters followed; Bellatrix calling wildly, Mafoy's voice coolly composed, the rest just a jumble of angry, wild noise.

His heart was jumping wildly. He stared at the one door that lead out of this room and that was the reason for his hesitation. That door, he knew, lead to the room with a veil and the mere thought of entering that room again sent a chill down his spine. The others might not have heard it, but Harry knew he'd heard voices beyond the veil, and he did not want to know what they were saying.

But the Death Eaters were at the door they'd just run through and it would only be a matter of time before they got in.

Beside him he could hear Neville's heavy breathing. Harry looked over his shoulder at him. There was still blood smeared across Neville's face and already black and dark purple bruises were starting to show around his eyes. In his shaking hands the other boy held the prophecy. Harry had told him it was because they wouldn't expect him to have it. That was only a half truth. That prophecy would protect Neville, for as long as he held it. Harry just hoped he'd keep his hold on it.

"Come on, Neville." He said, tugging at the other boy's sleeve.

Neville gave a start but followed quickly. Harry opened the other door and entered the room. The veil in the stone arch fluttered ceaselessly in the center of the room on its stone dais. Harry closed the door and spelled it locked as the Death Eaters burst into the room he and Neville had just left. Harry walked backwards down the stone seats towards the center of the room, trying to be careful of the places where the stone crumbled or broke off. He pushed Neville down ahead of him, as gently as he could while trying to make the other boy move faster. His eyes never left the door they'd just gone through.

He and Neville had made it halfway down the tiered stone seats when the door above opened in a blast. The force of it knocked them both over and they went tumbling wildly down the remaining tiers.

Harry screamed as pain laced white hot through him. He'd landed hard, feeling an unnatural snap somewhere up near his shoulder. It felt as though the wound on his side had ripped wider.

"Harry!" Neville cried, reaching out a hand to shake Harry. Harry groaned and looked up at him. His broken nose was bleeding again. He was pulling on Harry, clutching the prophecy to his chest. Harry got to his knees, though the pain was a live thing trying to devour him.

Above him he could hear the Death Eaters making their way down the tiers. He finally managed to get to his feet and he and Neville stumbled towards the dais with the veil. Harry raised his wand at Malfoy, who was just reaching the floor and had turned to face Harry. Harry's left arm hung useless at his side. He felt faint.

He'd gotten them all killed. They wouldn't get out of this. And all for nothing, because Sirius hadn't been here.

"Sirius." He whispered, wishing he could touch the mirror. But his arm hurt, he couldn't really move it.

"Aw, baby Potter. Calling your lover?" Bellatrix cooed, off to the right of Malfoy. Harry stopped moving, his heart pounding loud in his ears. "Or should I say your godfather?" Several of the other Death Eaters laughed. He could feel Neville's eyes on him.

"Harry?" Neville's voice was soft, uncertain. Harry stared at Bellatrix, who gave him a coy smile and a wink. The hand on his wand tightened. He should have known Voldemort would tell them, would explain exactly how and why he knew Harry would go tearing off after Sirius.

He still didn't understand how Voldemort had known. Sirius and he hadn't even- other than those kisses after Christmas. But he'd known, he'd known in the vision, and Bellatrix knew now. And he'd known that Harry would come running to save Sirius.

He snarled at her, a low visceral sound with no words behind it, wanting nothing more than to put his hands around her neck and squeeze. She smiled, leering sickeningly at him.

"So angry, wee bitty baby, maybe I can play with you a bit before he gives you to the Dark Lord." She laughed again. A wave of disgust and fury washed over him. It must have shown on his face because she laughed harder and took a step closer. He pointed his wand at her. "Or is it only that blood-traitor mongrel you let play with you?" She asked, her face twisted into a sneer.

"Shut up!" Neville shouted suddenly. And Harry had a moment, a mere second, in which he saw her shift the angle of her wand towards Neville.

"_Protego_!" He shouted, as she opened her mouth. And he took her by surprise because the spell caught her off guard and she tumbled backwards to fall to the ground.

There was an uproar from the remaining Death Eaters, but Bellatrix was back up before any of them could do anything. A jet of red light shot from her wand, but Harry had been a Seeker since the age of eleven and he was fast. He pulled himself and Neville out of the way, though he nearly toppled them off the dais to do so.

"HOLD!" Lucius Malfoy shouted. "Bellatrix, enough!" He and Bellatrix stared at each other. Harry's eyes darted back and fourth between them. Finally Bellatrix looked away. Harry stood cautiously, pulling Neville up with him.

"Give us the prophecy, Potter. Look at you, already bleeding out and broken. How much harder do you want to make it for yourself? For your friends? How much more can you take?" Malfoy drawled, gesturing towards Neville.

"I can take whatever you've got. And the more you do to them the more likely it is I'll smash the prophecy. Go tell Voldemort how you almost had it but lost it! How much will _you_ be able to take?" Harry spat. His fury was an anchor. He'd been training, preparing for just this, the moment when he would have to take his stand. He could do this. He could defy them, as his parents had before him and Neville's parents too.

"You're being very foolish, Potter, and I'm losing my patience. Now, have Longbottom hand over the prophecy. It might be enough to save your other little friends." His voice was smooth, but there was something in his face that told Harry he'd hit a nerve.

"Longbottom?" Bellatrix asked, her wild dark eyes moving to Neville. "Oh that's perfect. Yes, you do look like them, don't you?" She laughed again, a sound that grated on Harry's nerves. He felt Neville stiffen at the sound.

"Yeah, yeah I do 'ook 'ike 'em!" Neville said, a wand that was not his own, Harry knew his had broken, in his hand pointed directly at her.

"You want to play too?" Bellatrix asked. "Your parents were such fun to play with. Can you last as long, I wonder?"

Too late Harry grabbed for Neville. Too late. The other boy had shoved the prophecy at Harry, not bothering to see if Harry had a hold of it. Then he was charging Bellatrix. Neville seemed like a ghastly specter. So pale from the blood he'd lost and the shock and exhaustion of battle, his face contorted in anger, blood smeared across his face. He looked, Harry thought, as mad as Bellatrix herself.

It seemed that everyone, even the Death Eaters, were too shocked to do anything.

Harry didn't know what Bellatrix was expecting; a failed curse or a hex, obviously something that would take no effort to block. His full body leap at her, and the furious punch he threw caught her off guard. It hit her, by luck or by aim, right in the nose and she stumbled back, blood spurting between the fingers of the hand she pressed to her face. Then she launched herself at Neville and they went tumbling towards the ground.

"Neville!" Harry cried, watching horrified as Bellatrix got a handful of his hair and slammed his head into the floor. The stillness that had fallen over the Death Eaters broke at the sound of Harry's cry.

Harry, prophecy back in his one still useful hand, ducked a spell aimed at his head and rolled head long down the steps of the dais. Ignoring the furious pain in his arm and side he stood and tried to run in Neville's direction. Halfway there Malfoy appeared beside him, grabbing Harry's injured arm and twisting. Harry's scream was guttural. His hands grip almost faltered on the prophecy, his wand clattered to the ground.

"Give it to me Pot-." He was cut off as a door at the top tier of the stone benches slammed open.

Harry twisted in time to see Tonks and Remus knock two Death Eaters off their feet with well aimed spells. Harry couldn't see who else came into the room, the angle that Malfoy held his arm kept him from turning any more than he had.

Malfoy tightened his hold Harry's arm, giving it a hard jerk. Harry couldn't help it, he cried out in pain. There were stars behind his eyes as he closed them against the pain. How much longer could he stay conscious, he wondered, with his blood still spilling from the wound at his side and his arm dislocated or broken and being jerked every which way? When he opened his eyes Malfoy was glaring down at him, though his eyes were darting around to watch the Order Members as they dueled with his Death Eaters.

"We're leaving, Potter." The other man hissed and began dragging Harry towards the stone seats. Harry stumbled, nearly fell, feeling light headed and faint. Malfoy did not loosen his hold, and another cry of pain, weaker than the others, broke through Harry's lips.

There was another bang as a second door opened above them. The roar of outrage that exploded from the person above them was nearly deafening in the high vaulted room. Harry looked up to see Sirius leaping down the stone steps towards Malfoy.

Sirius, like Neville just moments before, did not bother with the wand in his own hand. He leapt from the last stone step, landing lightly just a few feet before Harry and Malfoy and swung. His fist connected with the coldly refined face of Lucious Malfoy at the same exact moment his other hand grasped Harry and pulled him tight against his side.

Malfoy went down and did not get back up.

Harry stood against Sirius, heart hammering. He could see around the room now.

Tonks was battling Bellatrix from several steps above. Remus was furiously dueling with Dolohov. Mad Eye Moody had brought down one of the other Death Eaters, Harry thought it might have been McNair but he couldn't clearly see his face though his hood had fallen off, and was charging forward to block the Death Eater that was trying to get away from Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt was getting to his feet and chasing after the same Death Eater. Neville was crawling towards the stone steps on the other side of the room. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his friend.

He had the strange feeling of time standing still; the pain that was ripping through him seemed a far away thing. When he looked up Sirius was just looking down at him.

………………

He'd heard Harry's screams of pain even through the stone door. And he'd blasted his way through, seeing Malfoy holding Harry, and lost all control. It wasn't until he'd punched Malfoy and brought Harry safely to his side that he'd even really taken a look at the boy. Now he looked down and was alarmed by what he saw.

Harry's eyes were glazed and unfocused as the boy looked up at him. Sirius loosened his hold on him, pushing him away just enough to see his wounds. What he saw made his stomach roll. Fear crept in along the anger and the worry. Harry's left arm was hanging useless. But worse than that, and what was really scaring him, was the alarming amount of blood on his left side.

In his hand was clenched a glass globe, but no wand. Where was his wand? His eyes scanned the floor around them and he spotted it. He reached forward quickly and grabbed it.

"Harry?" He turned back to Harry.

The boy looked at him, but didn't answer. Sirius pressed his free hand to Harry's side and felt warm blood wet his palm and fingers. He found a rip in the boy's shirt and put his fingers through to feel a long gash that started somewhere near Harry's ribs and went all the way down to his hip. Sirius had never been any good at healing spells; it was Remus who had excelled at that. He pressed his entire hand over it. Harry flinched.

"Harry, come out of it. Harry!" He cried. Harry shook his head as if waking from a dream.

"Sirius." He whispered, voice small and broken. Sirius caught his eyes and held them.

"Don't break yet, Harry. Not yet. We have to get you out of here." Harry's eyes focused a bit more. He nodded his head, his hand tightened on the glass sphere. "Where are the others, Harry?" He asked, watching anxiously the duels happening around the room. He looked back to Harry, who nodded his head at a door that was nearly on the other side of the room.

Sirius groaned. And heard an answering groan from the man on the floor just a few feet away from them.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Sirius shouted. The man fell back, unmoving, though his eyes were looking at Sirius. "You stay there, Malfoy, I'll be back to deal with you." He snarled. He turned back to Harry.

"I'm getting you to that door and then I want you to get them all and get the hell out of here." Sirius told him, taking the glass sphere from Harry's hand and stuffing it in the boy's pocket. He pressed Harry's want into his hand. "Harry, look at me." Green eyes met his. "Do you hear me?"

"Sirius." The boy said quietly. "It's all my fault. I've gone and messed it all up."

Sirius put a hand to Harry's face.

"You did wonderfully. We're going to take it from here. Get them out, Harry. Get to number 12, I'll see you there."

Then he was pushing Harry towards the door he'd nodded at, blocking stray curses that flew through the room. He got Harry across the room and up two stone steps when he heard Tonks' shout. He turned, as Harry turned, to see her fall the remaining three steps and hit the ground hard.

Bellatrix, having won that duel, was running full tilt towards where Remus stood protectively in front of Neville Longbottom as the boy tried to climb the stairs behind them, still dueling with Dolohov.

Sirius darted a glance back at Harry, who looked as if he might jump back into the fight and then to Remus, visibly tiring and obviously unaware of the oncoming threat. Sirius made a decision. He shoved Harry none too gently towards the next step.

"Get the bloody hell out of here!" He shouted over the din of battle.

And then he turned and tore across the room. Remus was on the other side of a dais that rose in the middle of the room. On that dais was a stone archway with a tattered, dark curtain hanging from it. He climbed the steps of the dais and threw a curse at Bellatrix.

His mad cousin looked up at him, pulled her lips back from her teeth and hissed. He threw another curse at her but she blocked this one and began climbing the steps to where he was.

"Blood traitor." She hissed at him.

He couldn't help the juvenile roll his eyes. As if that particular insult could even really be considered an insult. Looking at her, he worried if he had looked quite that insane when he'd come out of Azkaban. Probably worse, he thought. It was no wonder Harry hadn't believed what he'd been telling at first. At the thought of Harry he had to fight to keep his eyes from seeking him. He had to have gotten out by now. He had to have gone. With that wound, Sirius didn't know how long the boy could go without medical help.

"Sod off, Bella." He said cheerfully, as he returned his thoughts to his cousin. A flick of her wrist sent a hex at his face, but he blocked it easily.

"We'll kill you, you know, and your child-lover with you." She said, looking so sure, so confidant. But what she said brought him up short. What had she said? "The Dark Lord knows all. And what the Dark Lord knows, I know, because I am his most loyal-."

"Nutter?" He provided helpfully, cutting her off, and trying to keep his voice light. But his insides twisted. How could she have known? How could Voldemort have known?

She cast, wand moving so fast it was a blur of movement, and this time is was a very near thing when he blocked the curse. He laughed at her anyway, knowing it would infuriate her. But she looked at something to the right of then, and he saw her hand shift slightly.

"Come on, little Bella, show us what the Dementors taught you while you were wasting away!" He cried out, not knowing if Harry had gotten out of the room, or if Remus was in trouble, but knowing he needed to keep her focused on him. It seemed to work.

"Mongrel!" she snarled. She cast again, he ducked and it barely missed his head. He cast one of his own, but she blocked it with surprising ease. He cast again, desperately trying to keep her attention on him. There was shouting to the right of them, off of the dais. His head turned, just a fraction, and when he looked back towards Bellatrix, it was too late to block the red light. It hit him in the center of his chest and he had the feeling of being numbed from head to toe.

He was falling backwards, and he knew with a sick feeling in his stomach, just exactly what was behind him. He could hear whispers, and then a feeling like cold water being doused over his head. His eyes closed.

……………

Harry couldn't leave the room. Not with Neville scrambling up the other side, and Remus looking like he might collapse sometimes. Not with Sirius on the dais that made his stomach roll and pitch, fighting his mad cousin.

He'd been staring, stupidly and blindly, at Sirius as he rushed his cousin. Then Neville had cried out and his eyes had been riveted towards where Remus was stumbling from the force of a curse that had managed to hit him.

"Remus!" Harry shouted, climbing down the stairs despite the pain he was in.

"Stay back, Harry, its fine! Get out, Harry!" Remus had shouted back, casting at Dolohov, who had been advancing on Neville. But Harry's eyes were caught by Neville, motioning for him to look behind him.

His stomach dropped. He turned back towards where his godfather had been dueling just a few short seconds ago, and he turned just in time to see a jet of red light him square in the chest. Sirius was shoved backwards by the force of it, his back arching, a look of surprise on his handsome face.

Harry was moving long before he realized it, moving faster than he had thought possible mere seconds ago. He vaulted up the steps of the stone dais, reaching the top in time to see Sirius's head falling back through the veil. _No, no, no, no, no, no no. _This wasn't supposed to happen. Not Sirius.

He screamed, something guttural, though Sirius's name was in there somewhere. He ran, full tilt, with no hesitation, towards the man falling into the veil. And he hit with full force into Sirius's side, sending them both falling, tilting, and rolling back down the stairs on the opposite side of the dais. There was the sound of shattering as the glass sphere of the prophecy fell from Harry's pocket and crashed to the stone floor.

For a long moment the world was black. And then pain came blasting back in and Harry opened his eyes, deafened by his own screaming. It took him a moment to realize that he was screaming Sirius's name. There was shouting, the blasting sound of more doors opening at the top of the stone tiers. He couldn't stop screaming. He clawed, blindly at the body that lay beneath him. There was warmth and the possibility of movement though he couldn't be sure, and somewhere in the back of his mind where reason might still have existed he knew that these were good things.

There was blood in his eyes, more than before, but he opened them and stared down at Sirius's still face.

"NO! NO!" He screamed, shaking so badly he could barely get his fingers to the other man's neck. He pressed and waited. Nothing. "Please, Sirius, please." He whispered, voice raw and ragged.

Oh, Merlin, how everything hurt. He pressed his lips to his godfather's, tasting Sirius, and fire-whiskey, the coppery hint of blood. Please, please, please. His fingers pressed harder against the pulse point. And there, just there, faint and fluttering, a single beat. He closed his eyes tight, kept his lips pressed tightly to Sirius's. It seemed to him that hours passed before he felt another pulse beat. He pulled his lips away.

"Sirius. Sirius. Sirius." The other man's name a chant, as he ran his good hand over his still face.

There were tears in his eyes now, cooling and almost soothing. But, _oh Merlin_, it hurt to breathe and to move and to stay awake. But Sirius was beneath him on the cold stone floor, and his features were too still. Harry couldn't see the rise and fall of his breath. It was only those two pulse beats that let him know Sirius was alive at all. And he was pale, so pale, as if all his blood had been drained.

"Harry!" Someone shoved him down. Rock cascaded down over him; he tried to shield Sirius from it. "Is he breathing?" A voice growled in his ear. Remus, he realized. He nodded, wordlessly, not sure if Remus could see him. "_Protego_!"

Harry's vision blurred, then cleared. He couldn't breath. All around him the noise of battle seemed to be dying down. There were low groans of pain, and he could hear the gravelly voice of Mad Eye Moody threatening someone.

"Harry. Harry get off of him so I can check him." Remus put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him gently. Harry turned suddenly to stare at him. His head spun at the suddenness of his movement. He griped Sirius harder with his good hand. He closed his eyes. He felt rough hands clasp his face. "Harry, look at me." He opened his eyes. "Let me look at him."

Harry nodded and slid off of Sirius onto the stone floor. He was watching Remus as he felt for a pulse and listened for a heartbeat when he heard it; the mad, cackling laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I need help! I can't find a pulse!" Remus shouted at that exact moment. The sentence froze his blood.

The threads holding Harry to sanity snapped. He stood, grabbing his wand off the ground and facing the direction of the laughter. He saw Bellatrix as she made her way to one of the many opened doors. She caught his eyes.

"Poor baby Potter. Is he dead now? Dead like your mum and dad? Poor baby, no parents, no lover." She laughed and disappeared through the door.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Harry roared and he was off running, though he didn't know how he could. His chest was on fire, his side nearly numb now, and his arm was useless.

"HARRY NO!" Remus screamed behind him. But he ran, ignoring the cries of the Order Members in the room. Let them deal with the others, he thought in a rage, she's mine.

He slammed through the door, wand held tight in his hand and followed her as she ran. She was laughing, calling back to him, unafraid. She should be afraid, he thought, if she had any sense at all she would be afraid.

They had entered the room with the fountain before he truly caught up with her.

"_Crucio!_" He screamed and she fell to her knees. She was laughing still, though it was a breathless panting now.

"You have to- to mean it, little boy." She panted out, rising to her feet, her wand aimed at his chest. "Do you see now, how weak you are?" She asked him sweetly. His hand shook, his vision blurring again. How much longer, he asked himself again, how much longer before he was as good as dead- like Sirius. His chest seized at the thought. "I've killed him, took him away from you, left you all alone, and you still can't cast an Unforgivable." She was saying, though he was having trouble hearing her voice over the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

"I can- I can. And I will." He said, but he sounded breathless. When had it become so hard to breath?

"Getting tired, Potter?" She asked him, taking a step forward. His hand was shaking. But he had to ignore it, the pain and the weariness, for Sirius- for Sirius who was dead. He closed his eyes tightly against the wave of sorrow that flowed over him at the thought.

"Leave the boy be, Bellatrix. He's had a rough night, haven't you, boy?" A soft voice hissed, close to his ear. He turned and felt his heart stop as he stood face to face with Voldemort.

"How- how?" Harry stuttered, his grip tightening on his wand. He stepped away and to the side, keeping himself between Bellatrix and Voldemort, turning his head to watch them both.

"Go now, Bellatrix, the boy is mine. You've done enough." Fear flew across her face for the briefest of moments, and Voldemort saw it. "What has gone wrong, Bellatrix?" He asked, voice hissing. Harry eyed the door he had come out of. Maybe if he could get back to it-.

"Dumbldore is below, my Lord, and the prophecy- the prophecy has broken. We failed, my Lord." She said, not sounding half as mad as she had before. Harry started with a jolt. He hadn't seen Dumbledore. He hadn't heard him either. But then, he'd been rather caught up in Sirius at the time. Was Dumbledore really below?

"Dumbledore is below?" Voldemort hissed, there was a threat in his tone, but Harry wasn't sure who it was directed at. Bellatrix cringed.

"Yes, my Lord." She replied. Her eyes pleaded for… understanding? Forgiveness? Harry wasn't sure what, but he doubted she would receive it from Voldemort.

"And the prophecy is lost." She bowed her head, not speaking. "This is a very upsetting failure, Bellatrix." He tapped his wand on his free hand, then pointed it at her. She waited, not moving a muscle. "There will be price to pay, Bellatrix, later. Now, I will finish the boy."

His red snake eyes moved to Harry. Harry raised his wand in his arm, which had fallen to his side. Bellatrix seemed to have forgotten her own punishment, her eyes danced gleefully over Harry's tired form. Voldemort moved closer to him. He tried to take a step back and could not. He felt the familiar pain start up in his forehead.

"NO!" He shouted, trying to fight against this intrusion.

He wouldn't let Voldemort in. He wouldn't. Not ever again. It had already cost him too much. Sirius, oh Sirius. His heart would never beat the same. For a moment grief threatened to overtake him.

He managed a deep breath. His hand stopped shaking. He was so close to dying, he already knew that, too much blood lost and energy spent and there was no one here to heal him now. Dumbledore couldn't save him. Sirius was gone. It was him, at the end, and it felt like it was meant to be. He'd known it would. So had Sirius.

He glared up at Voldemort, all of his physical pain and discomfort forgotten. "Never again." He snarled, and he pointed his wand at Voldemort's face and screamed. "_Legilimens_!"

………

He was not trained in Legilimency. He had failed, even, at Occlumency. He didn't know what he'd expected to happen when he cast at Voldemort.

But this feeling, of dual bodies, of both watching and being watched, he was familiar with. He was both Harry and Voldemort. He could watch, from snake-like eyes as his own body fell limply to the ground. He wondered, but did not worry, if he were dead. It did not matter. What mattered most, he knew, was the body he was in, which he could feel fighting him.

_You do not have the power to do this, boy. _

The voice was in him, and around him. It hissed in the familiar, but strange, sounds of _parsletongue_. It did not frighten him, though it was meant to. This, Harry knew, meant he did have the power to do this.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them he stood once again the graveyard, as he had when a little over a year ago. But there was no one else there, except for himself and Voldemort. There was fear in him somewhere, but it was far away and almost felt as if it belonged to someone else.

Voldemort had been facing away from him, now he turned, a sick semblance of what might have been a smile covering his face. Anger washed over Harry. Anger he could use.

_You move in the dark, Harry Potter, you don't know what you're doing. You have come, willingly, into me. And you will die. Did they teach you nothing when they were trying to teach you to close your mind?_

The voice still came from all around him. The image of the graveyard slipped, he stood in the sitting room of a house that was very nearly familiar. There was man just standing from the couch, a woman beginning to run up the stairs. His parents, he knew, though he had never seen this memory before. But this vision was not Voldemort's doing. He could feel the other wizard fighting it, trying to change it. Harry walked through the room. Voldemort stood at the doorway, but Harry ignored him. He stared instead, as he moved closer, at the look of determination on his father's face.

His heart, which he knew was breaking, constricted painfully. Here was bravery, here was love.

The room was gone. The body he was in doubled over, gasping. Bellatrix Lestrange reached out a hand but dared not touch.

_FOOL!_

Harry concentrated harder.

The room was nursery this time. His mother, his very beautiful mother, stood in front of a crib. The boy in the crib watched her carefully, as if not sure whether he should cry or stay silent. Voldemort again in the doorway, but Harry had seen this a million times and did not care for what the Dark Lord did. He watched his mother. Defiant, so strong, so filled with love. A mother's love, that he had craved all his short life, and it had been there always. He hadn't understood it fully. But he could feel it now, running through his veins. His life was her love.

The room shook, the walls cracked, leaving large gaping holes. Through one crack Harry could see Bellatrix touch her master, and be thrown away from him for it. But the room did not dissolve.

He changed it again. And he saw his first meeting with Ron and Hermione. There, even, was love. It changed again, and he saw Mrs. Weasley piling food onto his plate, fussing over him. Love there as well. So much, and all for Harry, who had thought he'd had none.

Each new vision was stronger. The cracks became smaller. He knew Voldemort was on his knees now.

"You never understood. But neither did I. All the power in the world doesn't add up to this. What is love? What can it do?" Harry wondered aloud.

The room this time was one that was so familiar, so achingly perfect in its detail, that tears came to his eyes. Christmas lights shone, on the tree fairies climbed and swung from branches. On the couch lay a picture and he knew that picture. But there in the room, in front of him; Sirius. How much love there, then? So much more than Harry could understand.

"This is the thing you never understood. You wanted power; it's all you've ever wanted, power and immortality. You've turned yourself into a monster to get it, but you don't really have it." Harry said softly, and knew the truth of what Dumbledore had told him all along, his protection, even his power, was love. "Immortality lies in the memories of you that the people who love you carry. But who has ever loved you? Fear is forgotten. Love stays. And power is love. It gives us the power to destroy and to heal. To tear apart and make whole." Harry laughed aloud. The answer was so simple.

The room faded away, but it was Harry who made it do so. The body he was in was on the ground now, hands clawing at its own face.

Harry brought the graveyard back. He stared at the tombstone with the name of Tom Riddle's father on it. He traced his fingers over it.

"Maybe he loved you once. But you killed him, didn't you?" He said, and turned to face Voldemort, who was not just a memory in this vision. Who stared at Harry with such impenetrable hatred, that a shiver ran up Harry's spine. "Do you know the price of patricide?" He asked Voldemort.

_You speak nonsense. I will kill you now. Speak of your love to the dead that have gone before you._

So loud, that voice. So angry. Fear was his again, but he controlled it.

"My mother died for me, and that protection has been unbreakable. You killed your own blood. You have no protection."

Voldemort was advancing on him. This would be it, then.

There was something in his hand. He looked down and saw in his hand the silver knife that Sirius had given him for Christmas. The knife that could unlock any door. He tightened his hand around it.

He stood his ground, even as Voldemort raised his wand. The Dark Lord was only a few short feet from Harry, face inhuman in its rage.

"_Avada-._" Harry leapt forward, and thrust. Sirius's knife, a gift of love and a master key to all things locked, sunk hilt deep into Voldemort's chest.

He was thrown backwards. He hit the tombstone of Tome Riddle Sr., felt something in his back snap, and fell to the ground. He could not stand, he could not move his legs.

An inhuman wailing came from the center of the graveyard. Harry managed to turn his head and look.

Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort, stood there, his arms over his head as if to protect himself. And all around him flew the misty spirits of those he had slain. The wailing grew in volume, until Harry felt he would never hear again. There was wet on the side of his head, he raised a shaking hand to his ear and pulled it away. There was blood on his fingers.

The world was going grey. He could not see clearly anymore. The body he had flung himself so recklessly into was stopping, dying.

The graveyard faded, though the wailing continued.

He was lying on the floor, his nails had dug into his eyes and he could no longer see. There was frothy blood on his lips. Voldemort was dying.

With a last, desperate push, Harry cast himself from Voldemort. He didn't know if it would work. But he did not want to die in Voldemort's body.

He had the pulling sensations of leaving the body, but was greeted by blackness.

………….

There were voices. He could hear them, just above the range of his consciousness. He pushed towards them, though it hurt to do so.

"-have to get them out of here." He heard Remus's voice.

"Dumbledore said to wait, just a few minutes. Potter's healed up for now; Dumbledore says he'll make it. And- I'm sorry to say it, Lupin- there doesn't seem to be much we can do for Black at the moment." Mad Eye Moody.

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. They were still in the room with the veil. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes. The Death Eaters were unconscious and seemingly bound on the first tier of the stone steps. Shacklebolt and Tonks were standing guard over them. Remus and Moody were kneeling near Harry and Sirius.

He tried to sit up, but felt as if he were made of cement. He groaned and Remus and Moody turned towards him, wands out. Remus dropped his and moved to kneel beside Harry.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" He put his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry looked up at him, feeling confused.

"What- what happened?" He asked. The last thing he'd known, he'd been fleeing Voldemort's dying body. He stopped. Voldemort's dying body.

"Did I do it?" He asked, voice rough and shaky.

"We don't know." It was Mad Eye Moody that answered him. Remus's grip on his shoulders tightened. "Dumbledore didn't tell us what happened exactly. But he said he saw Lestrange disaparate with the Dark Lord's body. So report, Potter. What happened?"

Remus glared at Moody, and at Tonks and Shacklebolt who were still watching the Death Eaters but were obviously listening intently.

"For Merlin's sake, Moody, the boys only just woken up!" He snapped. He turned back to Harry. "You should be resting. We don't know what you did, so we don't know what the effects might be."

"There's a lot of questions needing to be answered, Lupin. If the Dark Lord is injured we should go no the offensive soon, tonight if we can. And if he's dead- like Dumbledore seems to think- well then, we've got Death Eaters to round up, haven't we? No use coddling the boy." He turned his blue eye to Harry.

"Dumbledore said to let it be, Mad Eye. Let it be." Remus snarled. Made Eye gave him a look that clearly said he was willing to defy Dumbledore on this.

"My friends?" He asked, though it hurt to speak.

"Back in Hogwart's. Dumbledore sent them through the Floo the moment he finished healing you. They're fine, Harry, they're being tended to." Harry nodded, relief coursing through his body.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Tonks asked from where she watched the Death Eaters. She chanced a glance away from them to give Harry a small smile, then looked back.

Was he okay? He thought of his friends and Sirius and the things that had happened inside Voldemort's mind. He tried to ignore the images of what had happened. He turned his head away from Remus and Moody, to look at the still form of Sirius on the floor several feet from him. Harry tried to sit up, but it hurt. He looked up at Remus.

"Help me. Please, help me. I want to see him." He pleaded, tears were pouring from his eyes and he was powerless to stop them. Remus looked so sad, so heartbroken that it brought a sob to Harry's lips. "I want to be near him, Remus. Please."

Remus helped him to sit up, and then carefully picked him up. It might have embarrassed Harry once, to be carried so, but he felt too weak to move. Some of the pain was gone, but he felt wound too tight. As though his flesh, his magic, and his very soul had been spread too thin.

Remus set him down beside Sirius. Harry sat next to him and leaned over, touching a hesitant hand to the silky black hair spread across the floor.

"You can't be gone." He whispered, feeling choked by his sadness. "You can't be." He reached his free hand, which he was surprised to find that he could move at all, into his pocket, drawing out the mirror and his wand. He stared at them both.

"Harry." Remus's voice was soft beside his ear. Harry didn't respond. "He has a pulse, Harry. But it's so very faint, that I don't understand how it can be there at all." Harry looked up at that.

"He has a pulse?" His fingers left Sirius's hair and pressed against the pulse point in his neck. It was over a minute before he felt it, the light fluttering of a pulse. It was gone again. Another long moment passed. He felt it again.

"Do you feel it?" Remus asked. "It's so faint. I don't know a great deal about healing, but I don't see… I don't understand. There are no wounds." He sighed and tried to start a gain. "The reason we're still here is that Dumbledore is trying to get a partial pardon for Sirius so that we can take him to St Mungo's. There's nothing _we_ can do."

But Harry wasn't really listening anymore. Sirius was alive. There was a pulse. He put his hand to Sirius's chest; he could feel the very slow beat of his heart. His skin was cool to the touch though, colder than Harry thought it should be.

But the more Harry let his hand rest over Sirius's body the more something felt off. He didn't know what, but there was something. He looked down at the mirror in his hand. The surface was darkened, as though something was covering it. Something like-.

Harry stood. It hurt, oh it hurt, and he very nearly fell. But Remus grasped his arm and steadied him.

"Harry!" He reprimanded, sounding scared. Harry looked at him, at his clear amber eyes so filled with worry and care and so many years older than they really were.

Remus let go of his arm, but he watched Harry's face carefully. Harry looked back down at the mirror.

"Sirius Black." He said to the mirror. The reflection of a veil that covered its surface parted. Harry could not see beyond them through a white fog. He stared. "Sirius, where are you?" He asked. There was something in the fog, something moving ghostlike through it. He turned his head, looking past Remus towards the veil on the dais. In his mind he could see clearly, Sirius's head falling back through the veil just before Harry collided with him and pushed him away.

"Harry." It was a whisper of breath on a breeze, no more, the sound of his name from the surface of the mirror. A shape in the fog seemed to solidify just for mere second, then faded into the white again.

"Oh, Sirius." He breathed.

He gathered his strength, what little of it was left, and hoping it was enough, he ran. He moved past Remus, who was too shocked to do anything, and he very nearly leapt for the first step up to the veil. It was hard, hard to move his body, which was still weak from being injured and then being healed. It was hard to focus his mind, which still reeled from the after effects of having been in Voldemort's for so long.

But he knew without a doubt where Sirius was, why his heart beat so slowly and why he would not awaken. He reached the veil, still running, and lifted a hand. It touched the fluttering edge of the veil and he felt it go cold. His felt the veil flutter against his face, brushing his lips, gentle like a kiss; like a kiss he knew.

He felt a hand grab his, and unable to turn back, knew it was Remus. He'd grabbed the hand in which Harry held the mirror and Harry let go of it, had the briefest of seconds to feel Remus take it.

"I can bring him back." He said, but then he was through the veil and cold washed over him. He couldn't know if Remus had heard him.

He didn't have time to care. He had to find Sirius.

………..

Six months was a long time, Remus thought, as he entered Sirius's room in St. Mungo's. It was a long time to hope, a long time to fight the truth.

He sat beside the bed, and as was his habit he straightened the mirror that lay beside Sirius's bed. He looked into its surface, but saw nothing. He was sure that only Dumbledore believed he had ever seen anything at all.

He let his eyes leave the mirror, looking instead into the too-still face of his best friend. There was still a heart beat, so slow it was nearly undetectable. And so they kept him here, and Dumbledore set his own watches on him, determined that no further harm would come to him. He was sure that Dumbledore believed, as Remus himself did, that if they could keep Sirius Black alive then there was the possibility of Harry Potter returning to them.

But it had been six months since Harry had run through the veil, saying only 'I can bring him back' in a voice that already had sounded otherworldly.

It had been six months since Harry had killed Voldemort, and Remus had to believe that if a boy of fifteen could manage such a task, then he had to be capable of bringing a man back from the dead. Or the near-dead.

Of course, it had been two long months before they'd been able to find physical evidence of what Harry had done. But they'd found the body eventually, and they'd found Bellatrix Lestrange with it. He shuddered at the memory.

He wondered still, what Harry had done. How he had accomplished what no other adult wizard had been able to do. Dumbledore would say it was love, though what that was supposed to mean was beyond Remus.

He let out a bone weary sigh and let his eyes focus on Sirius.

"I can't stay long tonight. We're after Peter, Severus and I. That would set you in a twist, wouldn't it; knowing Severus was out there helping you. But we've almost got him. And once we do, you're a free man, Padfoot." His jaw set in a hard line, tears filled his eyes but did not fall. "Or as free as you can be."

The door to the hallway opened, and Severus's pale face appeared. For a moment he just looked at Remus, pointedly ignoring the figure on the bed. He watched Severus's face, seeing the tightness of his lips, the narrowing of his dark eyes, shadowed by the fall of dark, lank hair. Something about it made Remus smile. Severus snorted.

"We should be going, Remus, if you want to catch the rat." He said evenly. Remus nodded and Severus moved back into the hallway. He reached out and patted Sirius's hand.

"See you tomorrow, Sirius." He turned away and began walking towards the door.

He did not look back at the mirror. He did not see the flicker of misty grey. He did not hear the whispered voice.

"Remus Lupin." The voice breathed, barely audible at all.

Shapes rose in the grey mist of the mirror. Two of them, one leaning heavily on the other.

"I've got him." The voice floated on the air, seemed to hang suspended in the silence. On the bed a long fingered hand twitched, as if to grab something and then lay still.

"I've got him."

……………………………………………………………………………………………. 

**Author's note II:** I've never written chapters so long, whew. I hope no one minds them too much. Anyway; I almost always start stories with only the most tentative idea of where they are going. So when this one went the direction it went I was pretty shocked. I was always sure I was going to have Harry tackle Sirius away from the veil, but I wasn't sure what would happen when he did. Thanks for the fantastic reviews! For those of you wondering (you know who you are!), there will be smut before the end! I just like to work up to it. Hope everyone liked! Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Most certainly is not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a moment.

**Pairing:** Harry/Sirius, and in case you haven't caught it; a hint of Remus/Snape (which actually becomes more than a hint in this chapter).

**Warnings:** 16 year old Harry. They get a little touchy in this one. SLASH, if you don't like it then please don't read it. This story is completely AU, not only because I'm ignoring (more, like altering) the events at the end of OotP, but because we know how the story ends now, and mine is nothing at all like the real thing.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

For once it was silent, eerily so. The white fog was thick and impenetrable. He stumbled through a rock bed that looked as if a river once might have run through it. Indeed, if he looked right down at his toes there was still the small tickle of water between some of the smoothed out stones. Through the fog he could only see a few feet ahead of him, and even what he saw could change in the time between one blink and the other. It had done so before.

The silence was odd. From the moment Harry had passed through the veil, the voices of what he knew now where the dead or the lost had been with him. Some spoke to him, others just seemed to talk. Always in whispers, sometimes nearly impossible to understand. He wondered if the silence had anything to do with the man who walked beside him.

Harry stopped for a moment, pulling Sirius's arm tighter around his neck, tightening his hold around the other man's waist. He was not as substantial within the veil as Harry himself was, but he was certainly nothing like the vague spirits that inhabited this place. He was solid and yet weightless against Harry. Sirius looked at him, face somber and closed. His hand reached up from Harry's shoulder to brush across his face.

"Harry?" He questioned, not for the first time since Harry had found him, and his voice too was somehow less than it should be. A reflection of what it was in the living world. At the thought Harry looked down at the mirror in his hand. He could see nothing through it and his only hope was that Remus would hear him when he called.

"It's me, Sirius." Harry replied, his other hand tightening on the mirror. The mirror had to be the way. It had been the mirror that had shown Harry where Sirius was in the first place, had brought him through the veil.

Brought him… here.

Harry had not known what to expect when he'd run through the veil. He had been plunged into this same cold, white fog and unable to see. He'd heard the whispers of voices and not known where they were coming from.

"_-lament always how I miss you. If only I had been more careful."_

"_They murdered me. No one would believe it but they did."_

"_He hexed me and I fell… down… down the stairs."_

"_-known the potion would turn lethal?"_

And then, softer than those voices;

"_Who is he?"_

"_Trespasser."_

"_-seeking answers we are not to give."_

Within the thick fog he had thought there were shapes; people moving weightlessly through it, though he couldn't be sure. It had been cold, the air like ice against his skin. He'd taken a step forward, and had been walking along this very rock bed. The whispers had continued. He had kept walking, following the flow of the trickle of water through the rocks. He'd thought it would have to lead somewhere. And for what seemed like days he walked through the fog and over rocks. And then finally exhaustion had overtaken him. He had lain down among the rocks and closed his eyes.

"Where am I?" He asked the fog before he fell asleep.

When he awoke he had known he was not alone. Someone- something- was sitting on a rock to his right, just out of his vision. He'd sat and reached a hand into his pocket for the wand he had left on the ground beside Sirius's body.

"There's no need. It might have been helpful if you had come through with your wand. It would make what you are trying to do easier. But you don't need it against me." A familiar voice said. Harry stared for a long moment, not quite believing what he was seeing. There were times when the fog seemed to take the young man back into itself, only to remold him again. It was, at the very least, disconcerting to watch.

"You- you're _here_?" He asked the man sitting on the stone before him. He got a soft smile in return.

"No. No. This is…" he seemed to be looking for a word. "It's the way station. It's where we go right after, those of us who are murdered." He shrugged. "It's different for everyone, depending on how you go. But you don't stay here for too very long. At least it didn't seem so to me."

Harry lowered his eyes, unable for a moment longer, to meet the understanding stare of Cedric Diggory's grey eyes. He looked up again though, at the sound a low chuckle. He stared at the face that haunted his nightmares, the boy whom he had failed to protect.

"You can't carry the weight of my death forever, Harry." The other boy stood up and stepped past Harry, looking out into the fog. "But we can talk about that on the way."

"The way where?" Harry asked dumbly. Cedric turned his head to give him a knowing look.

"You're here to find Sirius Black, aren't you?" Cedric asked. The fog seemed to take him again, and then he was back again, seemingly solid, standing next to Harry. Cedric shook his head. "It's hard to hold yourself in this place." He said by way of explanation, though it made no sense to Harry. "Let's go then. You need to find him before you can plead his case." Cedric had stepped off the rock and gone blindly into the fog. Harry followed him, slipping uneasily of the uneven ground.

"Plead his case? What do you mean? How are you here?" Harry asked. "Am I dead?" Cedric had laughed, a solid and clear sound that seemed to block out the whispers for a moment.

"You aren't dead, Harry. None who come in willingly can be called dead, though most do get lost here. And that's worse than death." Cedric seemed to shudder. "I am here because I volunteered. There are- well- there's bound to be someone in charge, isn't there? They can sense when people enter. Someone had to come- and- and lead you." There was something he hadn't been saying, but Harry had let it go. If the ghost of Cedric Diggory would help him to find Sirius, he wouldn't complain. He'd followed where Cedric had led him.

Harry tripped over a rock, and Sirius's grip on him seemed to tighten, though it still was not as solid as he knew it should be.

"You're almost to the veil now, Harry. If you take him further… without his body being there-." Cedric's voice, to the right of him, startled him badly. The other boy solidified out of the white fog.

"Thought you were gone." Harry said to him. Cedric shrugged.

"It's not as if time's a concern for me. I'll go back when you've gone." Cedric looked around the fog, and Harry could see his unease. He looked back at Harry and smiled, but there was something else in his face that Harry could not read.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, "They won't go back on the bargain, will they?" His hold on Sirius tightened.

"No. No. They're good for their word, it's unbreakable. You gave, they give." Cedric placed an almost insubstantial hand on Harry's shoulder, gave it a barely felt squeeze, and then let go, nearly fading away into fog again.

"Why is it so quiet? I used to hear the whispers." He could tell by the expression on Cedric's face that he had touched upon what was bothering Cedric himself.

"They're still here, the new ones and the ones who haven't moved on yet. But they-they're watching. No one has ever done- well not _no one_- but so very few have done what you're doing." Cedric's eyes were still eyeing the fog around them. Cedric's eyes found Harry's. "You're very close to veil now, Harry." And there was a warning in his voice.

Harry looked down at the mirror in the hand. If he was near the veil than it was best to stay here. The Speakers, those he had bargained with, they had told him not to leave the veil if the body of the soul he wanted saved was not there to be united with it.

"Remus Lupin." He said, loudly this time, and clearly. The whispers in the fog, which had been silent, seemed to start up again, only to become silent a moment later. "I've got him, Remus. Remus."

………………

They'd caught Peter Pettigrew. Well, Severus had really. And after, Remus had come St Mungo's to tell Sirius.

Now he sat at his friend's bedside, one hand holding Sirius's, the other propping his own head up as he fought to urge to just fall asleep. It had been a long night. They'd caught Peter sometime in the early hours of morning. Severus was at the Ministry now, seeing to it that the matter was handled as it should be. Dumbledore would have been there by now as well. Remus had told Severus he was going home to sleep. 

But he hadn't. How could he not come to his friend, after such a night? To tell Sirius that he would be a free man soon, whatever that might mean. And so here Remus was, trying not to fall asleep, having already told his story, but unable to leave.

He blinked slowly; once, twice, and then his eyes dropped shut. They opened wide again mere seconds later as a voice called his name. He turned his head, looking around the room. He'd scented no one.

"Remus!" Again, and he turned his head to stare with wide, disbelieving amber eyes at the mirror on the bedside. He grabbed it, one hand still holding Sirius's. He looked down to see what looked like a veil fluttering across the surface of the mirror.

"Harry." He breathed, hardly daring to hope. The veil seemed to part. He could see white fog, and for a moment, nothing but white fog. Then two figures seemed to solidify from the fog itself. "Harry!" He cried, clutching the mirror hard.

"I've got him, Remus. I can bring him back. You need to…" The voice faded away, the figures were hard to see. Remus held his breath and waited. The figures solidified again. "Bring him to the veil, Remus! I don't care how, you've got to do it. I can't bring him through like this." The figures began to fade again. "-hear me, Remus?"

"YES!" The word exploded from his chest, he stood, dropping Sirius's hand. The mirror clouded over completely, then cleared. He saw himself in the mirror. He shoved it into his pocket and looked over at the man in the bed.

"Time to go, Sirius."

……………...

He didn't know what he had been expecting.

He had kneeled just before the veil, with Severus and Dumbledore standing on either side of him, and Sirius lying on the ground before him. Sirius, who had lain for months without so much as a flinch or twitch of muscle, had begun shaking as soon as they had entered the room. His hands would clench and unclench at his sides. Remus kept one eye on him and another on the veil, as they all waited.

And out of the veil, very suddenly, as if he'd been pushed, had come Harry Potter. His arms had been twisted around, as if he held someone up and supported them, but Remus could see no one. Severus had moved forward to help him, but Harry had met his eyes and there had been something forbidding in them. Severus had stopped.

"Harry?" He'd questioned and the boy's angry and panicked eyes fell on him. There was something- faded about them. It had made Remus shiver, and the animal within him growled and raised its hackles.

"Sirius!" The boy exclaimed and he fell to his knees before Sirius's body. He moved his arms, as if laying something atop of Sirius. "Easy as breathing, easy as breathing, they said. There you go." He'd said softly, his hands smoothing over something that Remus still could not see, until finally they rested upon Sirius's body and he was running his hands over the man's chest, still chanting, "Easy as breathing. Breath now. Easy as breathing." His hands left Sirius's chest and grabbed one of his hands. He held it tightly, nails digging into the palm until Remus was shocked to see blood well up.

"Harry!" He'd whispered sharply, so confused by what was happening. But Harry did not respond, indeed he still did not seem to register the presence of anyone other than Sirius. He pressed his nails into his own skin until the blood was drawn from his own palm as well. And then he moved to grasp Sirius's wounded hand in his own.

Something seemed to have clicked in Dumbledore's head, for he had moved forward then as if to stop Harry from what he was doing. But it was too late. Harry had grasped Sirius's hand and he'd whispered something that even Remus, kneeling so close by, could not hear. And suddenly Sirius's eyes had opened wide, and he had taken a gasping breath. His eyes met Harry's and the panic left them.

"Harry." He breathed out.

Harry had smiled and Sirius closed his eyes, his head falling back. Harry had turned his head, seeming to truly see Remus for the first time. Whatever Remus had seen in his eyes had seemed to have gone from them, but the feeling of unease still sat in Remus.

"Harry, what-?" But Harry wavered and nearly fell over, but when Remus went to grab him Harry pushed himself away.

"Don't!" He whispered harshly, and then he too had closed his eyes and fallen backwards.

They'd brought them here, to 12 Grimmauld, and they'd had to levitate them to get them here, for Dumbledore had said he could feel the rivers of magic pouring back and forth between the two of them. And even Dumbledore had not been sure what that might mean.

And so Remus found himself once more sitting next to a bed. Now, though, he found himself sitting between two of them, Harry on one side, Sirius on the other. They had put them in the room that Ron and Harry had shared, for Dumbledore had thought it best not to separate them until they knew more of what Harry had done. He'd sat a chair near to Harry, hoping the boy would wake and tell him what was going on.

Severus was outside the door, standing guard even as he had in St. Mungo's. Almost, Remus wished the other man would come in the room with him. Something still sat wrong with Remus, and that neither Sirius nor Harry had woken in the last day did nothing to abate it. The fact that Dumbledore still held against anyone touching them made him even more nervous. 

Dumbledore had disappeared once they'd gotten the two of them home and had only stopped by once. He'd stared intently at both of their injured hands; told Remus to watch them both and tell him when they woke, and had warned him that Ron and Hermione would most likely be visiting soon.

With a sigh he left the bedside. He'd been here for hours and neither of them had moved. His back cracked uncomfortably as he rose from the chair and stretched. He made his way to the door and opened it to find Severus blocking it.

"Severus?" Severus turned his head just the slightest towards him.

"Lupin." He said curtly. Remus furrowed his brow, wondering why Severus would address him so formally when a small voice piped up.

"Professor Lupin!" The voice sounded infinitely relieved.

Severus moved to the side and out of the way so that Hermione stood in front of Remus, looking frazzled and stressed. And just behind her was Ron, who was red in the face and looked as if he might explode any second. Remus shot Severus a glare, but Severus refused to look at him or acknowledge the look.

"Professor Dumbledore said we could come and visit with Harry. Is he awake yet?" Remus moved backwards, opening the door and ushering the two students in.

They stopped just inside the door and stared at the two unconscious men in the beds.

"Oh Harry." Hermione breathed softly.

Remus looked at Harry. He was a disconcerting sight really, pale and washed out. Hermione took the seat Remus had just left, with Ron standing behind her, and reached out a trembling hand to grasp Harry's. Remus darted forward and grabbed her hand. She gasped and looked up at him. Ron looked as if he might hit him.

"You can't touch him; you can't touch either of them." He said by way of explanation.

"Oh, oh I forgot. Professor Dumbledore had warned me about that. I'm so sorry." And then she started crying, which made Remus feel awful and made Ron look torn between anger at Remus and undisguised discomfort. She took a deep breath and it seemed to calm her. "What's happened? Professor Dumbledore was very vague. We thought- I mean we all thought we'd lost them both."

"We watched the mirror carefully, after Harry ran through the veil. I thought, when he had first gone through it, that I had seen something in the mirror. That was enough for Dumbledore, and for myself, to have some small hope that he might come out again. But we didn't- we didn't want to give anyone false hopes. We kept it between ourselves and certain members of the Order." He paused and watched as they tried to understand.

"And none of you thought we ought to be in the know, did you? Didn't think that maybe his best friends should have been given a bit of hope?" Ron snapped, his face turning a brilliant red. Remus met the angry glare steadily.

"No, we didn't. The chances of Harry coming out again… they were so small. There was one person on record who did it, and that was so many years ago most people don't even know it, and that person didn't come out… whole." Remus explained. "We wanted to keep it quiet." Hermione was nodding, she reached out and grabbed Ron's hand. Ron let her take it, but the look on his face was still mutinous. Remus continued before he could interrupt. "A day ago there was an image in the mirror again, and Harry calling out to me, that he had 'found him'. He asked me to take Sirius to the veil, and so I did. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape came with me. And Harry came back through the veil."

"So then- is he- will he be- okay?" Ron asked. Remus gave them a careful look.

"He spoke a very few words when he came out. He seemed, different, yet not… mad. We won't really know until he wakes up. There's no way for us to."

"Did he- did he really bring Sirius back with him?" Hermione said softly, looking over at where Sirius lay.

"We believe so. Sirius opened his eyes and spoke Harry's name when Harry came out and touched him. He hadn't done that much while he was in St. Mungo's these last six months." Remus sighed. There were several long moments of silence while the two teenagers digested all he had told him.

"Why can't we touch them?" Hermione asked finally. Remus ran a hand over his face. He really was getting too old to be holding all night vigils beside sickbeds.

"I don't know. Harry collapsed after coming out from the veil, but when I tried to touch him, to steady him, he pulled away and told me not to touch him." He paused. This part, even he himself did not understand. "Dumbledore says he can feel the magic coming off of them. That it's pouring from one to the other and back again. He doesn't know what it means." He admitted quietly, and felt the unease tumble over in his stomach.

"Dumbledore can feel the magic?" Hermione asked. Ron was looking between Harry and Sirius as if there was a tie or tether he simply was not seeing. Remus shook his head.

"Well I've never read of anything like that." Hermione was muttering, looking back and forth between them and squinting as if she expected to see the magic for herself.

Remus gave Ron a small nod and left the room quietly, wanting to give them time to be with their friend.

He stepped through the door and shut it quietly.

"Do you think it wise to leave them alone in there?" Severus's smooth voice filled his ears.

He turned and found the other man standing just to the right of him. He inclined his head just a fraction towards the warmth of him. He felt the fleeting touch of Severus's hand on his.

"They know not to touch them." Remus replied. He met Severus's eyes, and the man raised one fine dark eyebrow at him.

"Because thus far they've shown such remarkable tendencies towards following the rules set to them?" Remus scowled. Severus merely looked at him, and when no argument was forthcoming returned to watching the hallway.

"Any word from Dumbledore?" Remus asked, taking up a post on the opposite side of the door. There was a slight shake of Severus's head.

"None at all." He answered. And then they stood in silence.

……………….

He woke slowly, pulling himself up through the haze of magic that seemed to surround him. The magic was familiar and yet not.

He was aware of the magic first, the feel of it and the weight of it, if it could described in such a way. And then slowly he began to hear the voices of the visitors in the room, though it was hard to understand the words they spoke. It seemed as if the voices moved further away, until finally they were no more. He tried to open his eyes and found he couldn't quite yet.

Everything seemed to hurt in a dull, far away manner. He managed to clench and unclench his hand. His fingers ached, his palm burned.

He tried to focus his mind. Where was he? Why did everything hurt so? What had happened?

He had the fuzzy, unfocused memory of a rock bed and misty fog. An arm around him, a voice that called to him, and then-

Sirius sat bolt upright in the bed, an inhuman noise being torn from his lips as his muscles screamed in protest and something, maybe the magic, tried to hold him down. He heard the sound of a door banging open. He screamed again, remembering. He had fallen through the veil, not fully, not wholly, but through it. And he had been lost there for a time- until- until.

Someone touched him, tried to push his struggling body back down to the bed. He heard a harsh voice cry out in warning even as he thought; _don't touch, don't touch, don't touch!_

Another scream, not his own this time, pierced the air. A ghostly voice, made of air and wind and crackling like lightning seemed to whisper into the room; _Any bargain, any price. I am he and he is me. I will not leave here without him!_ There was the smell of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of blood in the air. There was panic in the room around him. He could feel it.

I am he and he is me; an invocation of some sort, he could feel the power of the words even within memory. _Tell us something no one else knows, that is our price. And also, that your life be bound to his._ That had been their reply and he knew, he remembered, that Harry had agreed. And he had told them- he had told them- something about the darker nature of love. He couldn't quite remember. And while they, whoever they had been, did all agree that is was not something that _no one_ else knew it was something few enough knew and therefore still fit the bargain.

A low, dark voice murmured a spell; someone took a deep shuddering breath.

He heard the door open again. There was rustling, and panicked and hushed voices. And then there was a body on the bed beside him and he knew this person, this touch. The magic around him seemed to dissolve into them both. His body was no longer sore. A soft hand grasped at his, sleepily, and without thought he took it in his own.

There was warm breath against his neck. He took solace in the heat of the body next to his. He could understand what the people in the room were saying. He knew he could open his eyes now, but didn't. They would ask too many questions and he didn't have enough answers.

"-hard to know the effects or results of Blood Magic." Someone was saying, a deep and resonating voice and Sirius knew it was Dumbledore.

"Professor Lupin, are you alright?" Ron asked. The question startled Sirius into almost opening his eyes, but he didn't.

"Don't you touch him, you imbeci-." Someone snarled, the same someone who had cast a spell just moments ago. And he knew that voice, though he had never heard such a tone in it.

"Easy, Severus, the boy is just concerned." Dumbledore said softly. There was a low grunt, but no reply.

"Blood Magic?" Hermione asked softly, sounding awed and horrified both. "Harry used Blood Magic?"

"What did you think it would take to bring someone back from a land of Death, Miss Granger? Blood Magic yes, and not a small amount of Dark Arts as well." Snape still sounded like a cornered beast. It made the hair on the back of Sirius's neck stand.

He opened his eyes slowly. It seemed that there were entirely too many people in the room.

"Sirius?" Hermione took a step towards the bed, but Ron grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

Dumbledore turned from where Snape was crouched on the ground, holding the unconscious form of Remus and smiled kindly at Sirius.

"So you are indeed awake, my boy. Good good. Tell me, how are you feeling just now?" The old man came and sat at the chair on his bedside. Sirius watched him.

"What's going on?" He asked, and was horrified to hear how cracked and dry his voice sounded.

Dumbledore waved his hand and a glass of water appeared in it. He handed it to Sirius, who took it with his free hand and drank gratefully. The body next to his shifted, a low groan was muffled against his neck. He looked down and saw a pair of bright green eyes looking up at him and he forgot about everyone else in the room.

"Oh thank goodness." The boy whispered. "It worked."

………………

Most of the burns were healing and with the help of the salve that Severus was rubbing on them they did not even cause him much pain, and only a dim ache in his head and through his body reminded him of the stupidity of what he had done. Remus leaned forward on his hands, looking into the mirror above the sink. His chest was marked with cross cuts of burn marks. What an idiot he had been, touching them. But Sirius's scream had alarmed him; no, terrified him.

"You are infinitely lucky you were not more severely injured." Severus smooth voice said from behind him. Remus tried to catch his eyes in the mirror, but Severus wouldn't allow him to.

He couldn't argue, really. Severus was right. He was infinitely lucky. But he didn't feel like it at all. What he felt like was a man who had lost his last best friend, and the boy he loved like a son. Even though they were lying in beds in a familiar room just down the hall from him, he couldn't seem to reconcile them. Everything and nothing was the same about them both.

There had always been a connection between Harry and Sirius; Remus had known that even before he'd taken the picture of the two of them at Christmas. But now, that connection was deeper and not a little bit darker if what Severus said was to be believed. And Severus knew a great deal about the Dark Arts. And how much must it take to bring a man back from the land of the Dead? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to deal with Severus's answer just then.

"I am done." Severus said quietly, and he turned away to put the potion vial away.

Remus shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders and made his way into the bedroom. He wanted to sleep, to sleep for days. He should be able to. He had them both back, and Voldemort was six months dead, and everyday brought in new captured Death Eaters. He should be content enough to sleep for years. And yet he couldn't.

Because despite the questions Harry could answer, there were many he hadn't and flat out said he wouldn't. He'd made it clear that he'd had to bargain for Sirius's life, but not what he had bargained for it. It worried Remus. All of it did. What was the cost of living six months in the veil? They hadn't known how much time had passed. In the veil, Harry had said, it had seemed endless. Just time rolling on and on within itself, with no sense of itself.

There was a soft knock on the door. He looked to the bathroom. Severus made a gesture towards it and then closed the bathroom door. Remus went to the door and was slightly shocked to see Hermione standing outside of it.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Professor. Are you feeling better?" She asked. He stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway with her.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. Is everything alright? Are Harry and Sirius okay?" They'd left Hermione and Ron to talk to Harry, hoping it would get him to open up.

"Harry wouldn't talk much. Ron's downstairs with the rest of his family." And indeed, if Remus listened he could hear the Weasley brood making a commotion downstairs. He smiled. Hermione continued. "It's just, I had a question, and I thought I might ask it when it was just the two of us?"

"Of course, what was the question?" He began leading her towards the stairs, taking one step at a time and quietly because he had no strength to deal with Sirius's mother at that moment.

They came to the room that the Christmas tree had been in and stepped inside. Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Well it's just- you see- after what happened at the Ministry that night, when we found out that Harry had gone through the veil after Sirius, or because he thought Sirius was in there, Neville said something. He said that Bellatrix had been taunting Harry- about- about Sirius." She paused awkwardly and Remus realized where she was going with this and wondered how he should field the question. "He said she said it to Sirius too. That she said they were- were- lovers."

"Hermione."

"Well it's just it seems odd, the way they are now. They wouldn't really talk to anyone but each other. And you _saw_ the look on Harry's face when Dumbledore asked him to return to his own bed so he could tell him what had happened! I've never seen _anyone_ look at Dumbledore like that!" Her face was flushing red. "And all year, Ron said that Harry was talking to Sirius through the mirror almost every night. And this thing- this bit about their magic sharing back and forth. And I- I just- well- _are they_?"

He stared at her, a moment too long, and a look of horrible realization crossed her young features.

"Oh dear." She whispered. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's a complicated thing, Hermione." He took a deep breath and looked towards the stairs, in the direction of his room and is oversized, comfortable bed with longing.

"You knew." She said. She watched his face so carefully.

"I knew they had feelings for one another. But they didn't- Sirius wouldn't-." He stopped speaking. Hermione was nodding. "Does anyone else know?"

"Well Ron was there when Neville was telling what Bellatrix said. And Luna and Ginny. Luna just said that she could see why they would be, which set Ron off something awful." She paused, seeming to think. "I think- I think maybe Ginny wondered if there was some validity to it. But Ron- he- he would never believe it." She looked up at Remus with worried eyes. "I don't know what he'd do."

"Will you tell him?" Remus asked her. She stared at him for a moment. Then shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor.

"It's not my place is it?" She whispered, but she looked as though it pained her. When she looked back up at him there were tears in her eyes. "How did this happen, Remus? He's Harry's _godfather_. And he's- he's much older than Harry. And Harry- do you really not see a problem with this?" She sounded so indignant. For a moment he questioned himself. Should he see a problem with it?

But Hermione had never seen what he had, of that he was sure. No matter how much the girl did see, Remus knew she hadn't seen what he had seen. She'd never seen the picture of Harry and Sirius sitting in front of that Christmas tree. She hadn't seen the look on their faces when they saw each other again at the start of that holiday. No. Hermione saw many things, she really was the brightest witch of her age, but she didn't see the path Harry had been walking, the path that had brought him to Sirius, to the end of Voldemort, and into the Veil. And back out again. No, she hadn't seen Harry running after Bellatrix, or how he had thrown himself through the veil after Sirius. _'I can bring him back.'_ Harry's words still haunted him. He shuddered despite himself. And she hadn't seen him come back out.

"You're a very clever witch, Hermione, perhaps, if you look back, you can see why I wouldn't." He bowed his head slightly to her. "I appreciate your discretion, I'm sure they will as well. Now, I beg your pardon, I need my rest." He left her in the room, and walked quietly up the stairs. He opened his bedroom door carefully.

Severus was still in the bathroom. Remus wondered if anyone had even realized the other man was still up here. He lay down carefully on the bed, still hurting and completely exhausted. His mind didn't want to let him rest though.

He was lying in the bed; his shirt opened but still on, his eyes half closed, his mind whirling with too many thoughts to keep track of, when Severus came out of the bathroom. He felt the other man's weight dip the bed and then there was burning, lovely warmth against his side and a long-fingered hand running through his hair. He sighed softly. He knew if he opened his eyes just then he would see a Severus Snape that no one else ever had. He opened them slowly and was not disappointed. Though the look shuttered itself as he realized Remus was watching him, the black eyes were still soft and concerned.

"You need rest." The cold voice told him, though it did not seem cold to him at all.

How could he not understand Harry and Sirius, he thought to himself, letting Severus maneuver him out of his shirt and under the blankets when he had this- which no one else would ever understand? He turned over and curled against Severus's side, letting his arm slink over Severus's stomach, feeling the line of his ribcage. So skinny; were any of them healthy and fit anymore? All of them tense and starved; for love, for food, for safety, still watching over their shoulders and jumping at shadows. He heard Severus cast a locking charm on the door and then thin, tightly muscled arms wrapped around him.

"Rest." The voice said quietly.

And he did.

………………

It was hard to remember the details. The longer he was awake and out of the veil the fuzzier it all became. He tried to tell them, to explain what had happened. And yet there were things he did not want to share or to ever speak again. The things he had seen as Cedric had led him to where Sirius was, or the condition Sirius had been in when he'd found him.

"Harry." Sirius's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked over at the other bed, where his godfather lay.

"Sirius." He couldn't help the small smile that spread over his lips. Sirius was there, and alive, and looking right at him.

"You shouldn't have-." Sirius began.

"I had to." Harry interrupted him. And he had. What else could he have done when he'd seen Sirius in the mirror, just beyond the veil?

"Can you walk?" Sirius asked quietly. His voice sounded, just for a moment, as it had within the veil and chills ran up Harry's spine and brought tears to his eyes. "Harry?" Sirius sounded concerned.

Carefully, still feeling tired and sore and out of sorts, Harry left this own bed and made his way to Sirius's. Sirius lifted the warm blankets for him and Harry let himself curl against the warmth of Sirius's side. He breathed a deep sigh of relief at that warmth, for Sirius had been cold when Harry had gone through the veil after him. One arm lay across Sirius's chest and he nuzzled his face into Sirius's neck.

"Harry." Sirius's voice was soft in his ear. He shivered.

"I was scared. I just wanted you with me." Harry said quietly. Sirius moved slightly and brought his arms up and around Harry. "I had to go after you." Sirius's lips brushed against his hair, his arms tightened around him.

"The bargain-." Sirius began.

"I didn't care what it cost." Harry interrupted him. "It's only a few years." He felt Sirius stiffen. His arms around the older man tightened.

"A few years? Harry, it's your _life,_ and you've given up-." Harry raised his head, and feeling bold and sure of himself, he pressed his lips to Sirius's and silenced him.

"I haven't given up anything except the years I would have spent alone and without you." Harry said quietly, still so close that they shared breath. "And I'm not saying I couldn't live without you but I'd really rather not if it's all the same to you."

"Git." Sirius muttered. But Harry could hear the smile in his voice and feel it against his lips.

"I'm not the one who fell through a veil." He said, trying for levity. Sirius's hands, holding his shoulders, tightened on him. He didn't respond, except to lower his lips back to Harry's and kiss him hard. He pulled away, his blue eyes dark and unreadable.

"I should have been more careful." He said harshly, and there was heavy guilt in his voice, in the raw cadences of the words. "I shouldn't have gone running in like that. Stupid, blind, like always. Rash Sirius." The last was spat like a curse. He was shaking beneath Harry.

Harry squirmed out of his clutching grip and turned so that he kneeled at his godfather's side. Sirius was looking stubbornly away from him, his cheeks flushed, his mouth set in a hard line. Harry watched him for a moment, thinking of what to say, knowing it was important to pick the right words. They couldn't go on like this, both of them feeling guilty and responsible.

Carefully, and slowly, he ran his hands up Sirius's arms, following the lines of his muscle, tense and corded. He dragged his fingers slowly up his neck; let his thumbs trace his jaw line. Sirius's eyes fluttered to meet his, then looked away again.

"You can be rash." Harry said solemnly, letting his hands tangle in Sirius's hair, tugging gently until dark blue eyes met his. There was so much remorse in them, so much pain, and it broke his heart. "Sometimes you do things, and you don't think them through." The older man flinched, and when Harry thought he might pull away he tugged lightly at his hair again and moved his knees so that he straddled his hips. He closed his eyes for a moment at the contact. He licked his lips and opened his eyes to look at Sirius. "But you always do what your heart tells you to." He leaned his head forward, touching their foreheads to one another. "You saved my life that night. Malfoy would have taken me to Voldemort."

"The Order Members were there, they were protecting you." Sirius growled. Harry pulled his head back and stared at him.

"Now you _are_ being stupid." He said simply. Sirius's look changed from furious to blank and then back to furious in the space of a heartbeat. "You saw what was going on in that room. They were outnumbered, Malfoy _had_ me. You saved me, no matter what else you think. So stop. I mean it, Sirius. There can't be this between us. Please."

He closed his eyes against the sudden flow of tears in his eyes. And when he closed them he could still see Sirius cowering in the fog, holding Harry's own broken body. He could see the mad look in Sirius's eyes when the real Harry had called his name. _You can't have. You _can't_ have him!_ Sirius's voice had echoed, endlessly in the fog filled room and he glared at Harry as if he'd kill him with his bare hands and teeth if he came any closer. The veil didn't like intruders it had seemed. Who knew what else Sirius had seen in there?

"I'm sorry." Hand on his face, then tangling in his hair. "Harry. I'm sorry. Don't cry." The last was a whispered breath across his lips.

Then those lips were on his, soft and warm. He moaned softly, his hands tightening in Sirius's hair. Sirius licked his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to him. It had been so long, it felt as if it had been even longer. But he remembered the taste and feel of Sirius as if it had been yesterday when they had stood together in a room downstairs and kissed for the first time. He moved closer, pressing his chest against Sirius's, moving his hands to the other man's neck. He felt Sirius's hands moving down his back and he sighed, a half moan, into Sirius's mouth. He was shaking, he felt light headed, and there were tears on his cheeks that he couldn't hold back. They had made it. Relief flowed hot in his veins. They were here, together still. And Voldemort was gone and this was a future he had never, ever pictured.

He pulled away just slightly to look into Sirius's eyes. For a moment they watched each other and then Sirius ducked his head to begin placing soft kisses on his neck.

"Sirius." He breathed out.

Teeth nipped at him, and a tongue lapped over the bite. His breath hitched. One of Sirius's hands moved down to cup his ass and pull him closer. The other worked its way under the hem of his shirt to brush tantalizingly against the bare flesh of Harry's side. Those long, warm fingers brushed up his side, lighting his skin of fire wherever they touched him. His heart beat hard in his chest; his breath came in hiccupping cries. The hands on him softened, and Sirius lifted his head and began placing feather light kisses all over Harry's face.

"Harry. Harry." Whispered just near his ear and the softness of his name from those lips broke him.

Harry buried his face in Sirius's neck and the tears came, hot and scalding, and he couldn't stop them. Sirius held him tightly, still kissing his neck and shoulder, soft and reassuring. Harry's arms tightened around Sirius. He just wanted to be closer, couldn't get close enough or feel Sirius enough. And he had to feel him, to know he was there with him. And he didn't care about anyone else in the house or what any of them might say if they knew.

He pushed back, still crying, and fumbled with the buttons on Sirius's shirt. Sirius tried to grab his hands but Harry met his eyes.

"Please, Sirius, I need- I need to- to feel. Please." Understanding lit in Sirius's eyes.

He nodded his head slowly and leaned forward so that Harry could simply pull his shirt up and off of him. He did the same for Harry once his was off. Then slowly, reverently, he pressed his hand on Harry's chest, and Harry wondered if he could feel the pounding off his heart against his palm. But he still wasn't close enough, couldn't feel enough.

"More." He said breathlessly, and he climbed off of Sirius's lap to lie beside him and put a bold hand on Sirius's hip, just under his sweat pants. Sirius groaned, but lifted his hips and Harry slid the pants down his godfather's legs, never taking his eyes off of Sirius's, which were dark and careful.

"Harry." The voice was a husky groan. Warm hands grabbed his hips, pushed him away slightly only to pull him back closer. He could feel the heat of Sirius's body through his pajama bottoms, feel a hardness that answered his own. "We shouldn't-."

Harry kissed him, feeling clumsy now and a bit unsure, but wanting- wanting more. The hands on his hips tightened, hard enough to bruise, for just a moment before large hands slipped beneath the waistband and pushed them down off Harry's hips. Harry nipped at Sirius's lower lip encouragingly, whimpering softly and Sirius's hands brushed down his legs until Harry could kick his pants off the rest of the way. And then he was being flipped over onto his back and Sirius, handsome and warm and _alive_, lay down carefully on top of him. The contact broke him again. He felt tears once more on his cheeks. Sirius kissed them away, moving his lips down Harry's face until he found his lips and Harry opened them to him with a soft sob and Sirius answered with one of his own.

…………….

There was still that voice telling him that he shouldn't be doing this. But that voice sounded too much like voices whispering from a fog, and he pushed it away, not wanting to hear it. And in his arms, lying naked beneath him, was Harry; Harry who was alive and not broken, who was crying and moving and grasping at him. Whose lips were warm and demanding and everything that Sirius could want.

Harry was life.

There were tears on both of their faces, they flavored their kisses. They didn't care. It was hard to care about anything else at all when Harry was moving his hips against Sirius's, and his hands were digging into the tight muscles of Sirius's back. Sirius tangled his hands into Harry's soft hair and pressed his lips to his temple, kissing reverently.

"Merlin." He gasped out, as Harry moved just an inch to the right and found the perfect rhythm between them.

He pushed his hips into Harry's as the boy's rose to meet him and couldn't help the breathless groan that escaped his lips. He pressed himself harder against Harry, so that they moved less, had more friction between them. Harry keened softly in his ear. He turned his head and kissed the boy desperately. Soft hands were pulling on his shoulders, trying to get him closer, as if they could climb into each other. Harry tore his lips away.

"Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius." He chanted softly, pressing open mouthed kisses all along Sirius's jaw. His movement was easy as Harry lifted one leg and wrapped it around Sirius's hips. Sirius let out a wild growl and bit down on Harry's shoulder as they both bucked against each other and tensed, feeling their release pulse hot between them.

Harry was murmuring sweet incoherent words. _Alive. Love you. With me. Sirius. Oh Sirius. Alive._ And Sirius was suddenly aware of doing the same; lips moving against Harry's sweat slicked skin. _Saved me. With me. Harry. Love you. My Harry. My Harry. _And for long moments they stayed that way, tangled in each other and sweat covered and warm and lost in one another.

Finally Sirius allowed himself to lie down beside Harry, pulling the boy next to him and kissing him softly as Harry molded his lithe form to fit perfectly against Sirius.

"Want to sleep now." Harry said softly. "Here. With you." He looked up at Sirius with pleading eyes.

"Stay." Sirius murmured, feeling languid and relaxed for the first time in longer than he could remember. And he didn't care about anything outside of this little bedroom, and this little bed, and the sweet, delicious heat of the boy curled around him.

He had enough presence of mind to spell lock the door, and not nearly enough to worry about someone breaking the lock. They could cart him off the Azkaban if they wanted and it wouldn't ruin this singularly perfect moment.

He tightened his hold on Harry and felt the arm across his chest tighten in response. He closed his eyes, letting sleep pull him under, more than willing to face the world later.

Much, much later.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Note: Okay, so I was going to go with the Remus/Tonks ship, but honestly, I felt like that pairing was forced and rushed and pretty much written just to hammer home to idea that Remus is straight (I don't believe it either, he's the most gay in-cannon character they have.) and so I didn't go with it. Then I thought, it's kind of an HP slash cliché, having Remus/Snape as the background pairing, but I like it. And they have their own story, which I might write as a companion piece to this, if people are interested. Anyway; I hope everyone likes this chapter! I'm sorry it took forever, I'm moving to NY this weekend from AZ and things have been insane. Thank you all, so very, very much, for the reviews! They really are wonderful to get! Thank you! Hope you enjoy.


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